Gunslinger Girl: Fragility
by Radaphyte
Summary: This is the unhappy tale of the British Welfare Corporation. The already fragile mind of one Fratello handler is about to be shattered forever by his feelings for his charge and the relentless march of technology. Read it and review it, please.
1. Prologue & Trains

_Author's notes & disclaimer: I don't own GG, but I do own pretty much every character that makes an appearance in this. Except Triela & Hillshire. But they're not in it for a while. I used pretty much my own interpretations of stuff like the life span of the girls and The Elsa Factor as well as the lack of male operatives in the show so some of my story may not fit in 100percent with your take on it. My apologies to anyone with male operatives under their belts – I mean no disrespect for blatantly ignoring you or the possible existence of males elsewhere in the SWA/world: I just had this story floating around in my head for a while before I came on here :D   
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_**  
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_**For Henrietta – Knowing that you must die breaks my heart.**_

**Fragility**

"Fighting their love is one battle they can't win."

  
Prologue

Early in the 21st Century, the Italian Government created a new kind of secret agency. This agency took terminally ill young girls away from their family - if they were lucky enough to have any - and repaired their injuries using cybernetic components. This agency then, as part of the treatment, conditioned the girls using brainwashing techniques. The agency used the children to perform illegal operations against terrorists, criminals and assorted enemies of the state. The agency was largely successful in its aims, even if those used by it rarely lived more than a few years due to their conditioning process. That agency was called the Social Welfare Agency.

Not long after the SWA's inception, other governments across the world heard rumours about an Italian government body which trained children to kill. Rather than condemning the Italians, many governments soon learned their own techniques for creating the Cyborgs. They soon realised the same things the Italians had done – the younger the patient then the better the conditioning held, and that male patients reacted unpredictably (sometimes aggressively) to the conditioning process. Most agencies copied the Italian "Fratello" unit style, and even adopted the term itself. Others, like the United States, decided that the opportunity to create near invincible super soldiers was too good to pass up and swiftly set to work designing new, more effective Cyborgs.

Soon, almost every developed country had its own agency and its own Cyborg agents. They took no notice of the issues raised by the Italian SWA, such as the chances of the bond between handler and child becoming too intimate, or too distant. The British Welfare Corporation (the UK's answer to the SWA) decided that in order to counter any threat posed by another nation using its cyborgs aggressively or to counter the possibility of terrorists or criminal organisations learning the secrets of creating a Cyborg was to devote a large amount of resources into a project designed to create a Cyborg Response Unit. And into such a world was the "First Response Assault Unit Project" born.

A world of fear and hate.

Chapter 1 

The train was travelling more slowly as it neared the city. The deep rumbling noise as it grinded along the tracks steadily grew more rhythmic. Inside, four men in business suits rose from their seats and made their way out of the carriage. They were completely oblivious to the fact that they were being watched. Further down, a man in a black coat and a young girl wearing jeans and a black jumper sat and observed. The girl looked at the man and took in his features: his pale skin; his shallow, gaunt cheeks; his pale white hair grown down to his shoulders. His features were just beginning to show signs of natural wear and tear, he was still young. This was the man she loved. She touched his thin, bony hand and marvelled at the whiteness of his skin.

"Sir, can I kill them now?"

Her voice was soft and quiet, yet eager. The man turned his head to look at her, his sallow features inscrutable. Her large brown eyes gazed up at him adoringly. He reached out a hand to gently brush some of her long, silky hair out of her face. It was a deep, deep red-brown colour and reached down to her waist. Beautiful. He smiled.

"Yes Rose, you can kill them now."

Opposite from where they were sitting, a young couple shifted uneasily as though a chill wind was blowing down the carriage. Rose eased herself out of her seat and began walking down the aisle, smiling happily. The man, Tony Kite, sat and watched the nine year-old walk slowly away. His smile disappeared as the daemons within returned and began to gnaw at his heart.

* * *

Bullets thudded into the bricks around the window as Tony loaded another few shells into his Colt Peacemaker. The metal of his gun chamber was hot and it burned and blistered his fingers as they expertly chambered the new rounds. To his side a young girl, Samantha, was busily firing her Peacemaker out of the window at the men outside with Kalashnikovs. Her white summer dress blew in the breeze from the smashed window. If it hadn't have been for the situation they were in, the Fratello could have enjoyed the surprisingly good British weather. But as it was, they were stuck inside this apartment room whilst two dozen heavily armed criminals were trying to kill them. Samantha saw a man trying to run up the stairway to the apartment and took him down with a single bullet to the head. Tony looked out of the window and fired at the men outside – where the hell was his backup? Then he received his answer; he heard gunfire that certainly wasn't from an AK. Looking along the street outside he saw three small girls all armed to the teeth, cutting a swathe through the gangsters. He watched with a grin as one tracksuit wearing criminal was blown apart at point blank range by a small, blond girl's M16. 

"Samantha; come on, they arrived – let's get down there and lend a hand!"

He looked over at the girl, her golden curls spilling over her shoulders. She looked up and smiled.

"Yes, Sir."

Tony placed a hand on her shoulder before running out into the hallway, pulling back the hammer of his revolver – ready to fire. He was caught of guard. A short blast from an Ingram Mac10 blew him off his feet.

"Sir!"

Samantha's scream of horror mixed with rage drew the shooter's attention. He levelled the Mac10 and fired before Samantha could react through her shock. The bullets tore her apart. There was a loud crack and the shooter fell forward with a spray of claret: his head no longer identifiable as a head. Tony sat, his well formed, tanned face covered in blood and grimacing in pain. His short white hair was drenched in blood that was not his. He crawled over to where Samantha lay, she was barely breathing – not even a Cyborg could survive that level of damage. He knelt beside her, his own injuries forgotten.

"Sammy..."

He was beginning to weep. The relationship between them had always been close – she was like a cherished daughter to him.

"Tony? Please... I can't see..."

Her voice was faint, and her eyes were covered in blood from a head wound. Taking her hand in his own, he held it up to his face.

"You'll be alright. Don't worry... There's help coming now."

If only he believed it himself. He knew there was no time. Even while the other girls of the British Welfare Corporation finished killing and began searching the area for the missing Fratello; Tony knew she was dying.

"Sir?" Her voice was even fainter. "You'll be given a new ... partner, won't you?"

A trickle of blood started at the corner of her mouth.

"Yeah... I... I will." His tears began to mix with her blood.

"Can you make me a promise?"

"Anything." Tony meant it.

"Love her."

This took him aback.

"What...what do you mean?" He asked.

"Don't just treat her like...another partner, give her everything she needs. Love her. Love her...like I love you."

Her mouth opened in a last attempt at speech – but her lungs were drowning in blood. The realisation hit him.

_Like I love you..._

"Samantha..." Tony wept openly over her dead body until the pain of his own wounds took his consciousness.

* * *

"Sir? It's done." The voice of another girl broke through his memories. Looking at Rose, he saw that her right hand was bleeding. So much had changed since he lost Samantha. His appearance had lost all of its handsome, full features. His mind had lost all comfort. But he would keep his promise. He loved Rose. More than a daughter, more than he had loved anyone. More than he loved Samantha? Possibly, but in a different way. Samantha was his first. There was a bond in that that couldn't be broken, not even by death. But Rose was his protégé. Skilled, deadly, efficient. Perfect. He loved her for it. 

"You're bleeding. Does it hurt?"

His voice was soft and concerned.

"No sir, it doesn't hurt. One of them had a knife. I disarmed him – like you taught me."

"Here", he took a folded tissue out of his pocket and pressed it against the wound on her palm, closing her little fingers around it to hold it in place.

"Well, eventually that should stop the bleeding at any rate. But have a medic look at that when we get back. I don't want it getting infected."

"Yes, sir"

"You've performed excellently, once again. I'm starting to think that you might be able to do better than perfect one day."

He stroked her hair softly and she sat back on her seat. This time the young couple opposite them actively shuddered and looked at each other, their faces betraying their fear of this man who loved a girl young enough to be his daughter and the girl who talked about killing as though it were a hobby.

"Tell you what," Tony said as the train neared the station, "Lancaster's a beautiful city. What do you say we go see the castle before we go home? We could go to a restaurant afterwards."

"Oh, sir that would be wonderful!"

Rose's face lit up at the prospect of spending personal time with Tony.

"I told you to call me by my name when not on a mission. The mission ended when you killed them, Rose."

He smiled down at her. This was a particular problem with Rose – she never knew what to call him. Their first mission together: in Japan to bring down a Yakuza syndicate preparing to set up shop in the UK and Italy had resulted in 'Tony-san', then it evolved into 'Sir' after more training. He knew that 'Tony-san' had now pretty much become a pet-name for him. She called him 'Tony' only after he told her to... And Tony-san would remain, no matter how often he told her not to call him that. Poor Rose. Sometimes she could be so delicate.

"Oh, yes sir. I mean, Tony. I'm sorry" She said it with a hurt tone in her voice.

"Don't worry about it. C'mon, this is our stop – let's go."

Together they got up and left the train. The winter's afternoon was cold but sunny and the pleasant atmosphere as they left the station did nothing to even suggest that four known terrorists had been killed and hidden in the baggage compartment of one of the trains here. It did even less to suggest that their killer might have been a nine year-old girl.


	2. Home Again

Chapter 2

The room was lit by a dim orange glow. It was a pleasant sort of effect – warm like the sun and comforting like an open fire. Tony and Rose sat quietly in the Chinese restaurant – just enjoying being able to spend time with each other. As he neared finishing his meal Tony looked across at Rose who was trying in vain to get her rice to stick to her chopsticks.

"Here."

He reached across and gently adjusted her tiny fingers on the chopsticks – the cut from earlier was still visible, but the bleeding had stopped and it no longer caused her any pain. Not for the first time Tony found himself slightly afraid of this young, seemingly fragile little girl. Or, more specifically, he found himself afraid of the conditioning process. Even though he used the 'medicine' only sparingly, when it was absolutely necessary, he still felt a pang of guilt whenever Rose acted not through her character, but through her conditioning. Like the sadness in her eyes at being asked to not to call him "Sir" when not on a mission. But with the slight readjustment of her chopsticks he guided her hand and fingers downwards to the rice. Working with his hand over hers he quickly demonstrated the technique. Rose blushed furiously.

"Arigato...I won't forget it now." She said: her voice trembling with emotion at their close contact.

The scary thing was, Tony thought grimly, that she wouldn't forget.Ever. The same way she couldn't get some of the Japanese he had taught her out of her system. Thanks to her conditioning. He smiled sadly. Such was the life of a Cyborg. Such was the life he had to accept for her.

* * *

"Alright, some of you have already guessed the purpose of my calling you all here today." 

Richard Sutherland, Chief of Operations at the British Welfare Corporation, looked at his assembled team. The light of the setting sun was a fiery, but soft, colour. Dust particles could be seen in streams through the gaps in the blinds. The meeting room was plainly decorated, and a projector cast images of a mechanical skeleton onto the wall. He continued:

"The threat of enemy cells discovering Cyborg tech is a strong one. Imagine a criminally motivated gang utilizing a Cyborg to attack banks, government buildings or British citizens. Imagine; if you will, REUSABLE suicide bombers, agents who could work with the most deadly of weapons and chemicals with no concern for their own safety and little chance of death and then use them. The consequences of such an event would be dire. But the threat of it occurring is very real. Our enemies have only to capture and experiment on a Cyborg in order to begin to understand how to make their own. The government believes that we need to be prepared for such an eventuality. In short: we need a unit designed to bring down Cyborgs."

The projector slide clicked onwards, and the image of the mechanical skeleton was replaced by another, altogether more threatening, endoskeleton. The metal was a deep blue – and the eyes glowed red. Sutherland spoke again, indicating this new skeleton.

"Ladies and Gentlemen. I herby announce our latest project: 'The First Response Assault Unit '. Of course, we already have a prototype under development. When he is complete, we will apply new conditioning technologies and give him field training with the Fratello. That test program has been codenamed the 'Alpha Male Program'. In comparison to the other Cyborgs he is quite simply stronger, faster, better. He is perfect."

The room was uneasily silent at this last revelation. A male operative. These were pioneering times. New technologies and new techniques combined to create new ideas, or the remodelling of old ones.

Stronger. Faster. Better.

* * *

The car had been dropped off in Lancaster as planned. 

Rose was sleeping softly on the back seat – her gentle breathing and the soft rising and falling of her chest were signs that she was at peace. That was good: it gave Tony time to think, to clear his mind. He wound down the window of the car to let the cold night air blow on his face. Rose murmured quietly at the sudden dip in temperature.

Tony thought about his situation. Not for the first time. It had caused him...so much pain. A pain which he knew couldn't end. He was in the wrong – that much was obvious. How could a grown man love a girl so young...and in the way he did? But whenever he was with Rose the pain inside his soul eased a little, gave him peace. It was the Corporation's fault. It was scum. Scum for putting him here. Scum for doing this to little girls (And now a little boy, too – he reminded himself). But in the end all he could do was accept it. Rose killed because he told her too. And she was phenomenal. Perfect. But she loved him because he loved her. And that was the truth that helped tear him up inside. Oh how he envied the agents at HQ who over-conditioned their girls. No guilt. No remorse. The girls were weapons, to be punished for anything less than perfection. But only one of them had achieved it. Rose. The most successful assassin in modern history, and one of the most deadly combatants on the planet. She was perfect – and he told her so. He rewarded her for it with his gifts, his attention, and his love. Tony wondered whether the secret to Rose's success could be their somewhat 'unique' relationship. Was love really such a powerful...motivation? Oh how he envied the agents at HQ who over-conditioned their girls. Agents like Paul Tong.

* * *

They were walking through the compound to the firing range where their girls were waiting. 

"You're an idiot, you know that?"

Paul's voice was sharp and betrayed nothing of his heritage – that of a Chinese immigrant who had married into a wealthy family. He seemed, if it were possible, to have no accent at all. This lack of identity carried well with his cold character.

"Yeah, I guess I am – but I can't help myself."

Tony's response was light hearted, but not too much. It was difficult to judge whether or not Paul was being insulting or friendly sometimes.

"I mean...you actually love her! You're a bloody mentalist!"

"Well, it seems to work doesn't it?"

"Yeah, she's successful. But look at yourself. Take a look in the bloody mirror for Christ's sake! Do you have any idea how much you've changed since Samantha got killed? Your mind's got to be pretty fucked up too. But then: you don't learn from your mistakes about 'kindness' and not only treat her like a person – but fall in love with her? I'd love to be you when she gets it, Tony."

Sarcasm. Paul wasn't a bad person. Not to his friends. He was just...

"That's not going to happen."

...a bastard. It was in his blood, his attitude. It was in the way his Cyborg, Amy, was covered in bruises and cuts from head to toe from the beatings he gave her. It was in his drive to create a soldier that could be regarded as 'perfect'. But he hadn't succeeded. Tony had, or rather: Rose had. But Tony couldn't help but wonder what caused him to become such a heartless man. What could have happened to him to give him such drive?

The firing range was dull and grey. It was purely functional with no thought given to decoration. But that suited Paul just fine. He was not here to enjoy the view. But he wondered about Tony, pitied him. The guy needed help. He was living a lie and seemed to know it. To accept it. Poor guy. Rose and Amy (her clean, chiselled features and short red hair making her appear older than she was - only eleven years old, although Paul's harshness saw to it that she was tougher than most adults) talked for a while whilst they waited for their radically different handlers to begin their radically different training procedures.

* * *

Tony had driven south through the night and most of the morning, but stopped at a riverside inn to eat and relax on the riverbank for a few hours. It was these rare, peaceful moments that he and Rose cherished. No killing, no violence, no training, no conditioning. Only Tony and Rose. Fratello. More than Fratello. Lovers. 

It was these kinds of moments when he would actually free himself from his past. Free himself from the way his mind sometimes seemed to be breaking. Shattering. The way it seemed so fragile. He watched with a smile as Rose walked along the edge of the river, her arms out horizontally to keep her balance as she placed one foot in front of the other with the greatest of caution.

"Rose: if you fall in I'm not coming in after you. I don't want to get wet, you know."

She looked towards him with a smile on her face.

"Tony-san, I know when you're lying to me. Would you even let me fall in? I'd bet you'd have hold of me to stop me falling before I even knew I was falling myself!"

He laughed. She stopped walking up and down and walked over to where he was sitting; she sat down in front of him and gazed at him, her eyes shining and joyful. This was a rare moment of peace: of love.

"Rose? What have I said about 'Tony-san'? I tell you: someday I'll take you back to Japan; you really seemed to enjoy it..."

He hadn't. What he remembered most was a long search for a Yakuza kumicho alongside the Italians. What he remembered most was that Rose hadn't been fully trained. What he remembered most was her being kidnapped by the Yakuza and subsequently rescued by the Italian agents and himself. Not that she needed rescuing. By the time he had assaulted the Yakuza headquarters half of them were already dead. He tried not to remember having to almost completely re-train her when the doctors made her forget everything about the mission. But not the country. All she remembered were the happy memories. Maybe that was a good thing, really. But Tony even doubted that she would remember the Italians.

"Rose?"

"Yeah?"

_Go on. Ask her. Ask her if she remembers those Italians. She won't though. And one day she'll forget you._

He ignored it. It had been there for almost two years now. Whispering to him from the depths of his mind. Problem was: it was almost always right. There was no chance of her remembering the Italians. And one day she would forget him. Right at the end. An end that got closer with every passing day, month and year. He felt the shadows creeping back into his heart again – and he said the only thing he could that would stop them.

"I love you. You know that, don't you?"

"Tony-san..."

She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck. She squeezed tightly.

"Easy! Not so tight: unless you want to choke me to death!"

They both fell backwards onto the grass, smiling and laughing. A rarity. Smiles and laughter seemed so...distant at times for the Fratello of the British Welfare Corporation.

It wasn't until late when Tony arrived back at the BWC HQ. Together they checked in, and reported the operation a success. He made Rose see a doctor to ensure that her wound was healing well and together they headed to the dormitory. Outside the dorms, Tony turned to Rose.

"Listen, you go in and get into to bed. I'll come up to see you in a little while."

"Okay."

Tony smiled and kissed her soft hair.

"Try not to wake Sarah up, okay?"

"Okay, don't worry. I'll be careful."

"I know you will. I'll come to see you when you're ready."

She hurried up the steps of the government building and quickly found her room. Opening the door softly she could see Sarah's outline lying in the top bunk. She skipped softly into the room and eased the door shut. It was too late to shower, and anyway, Tony would be coming up soon. No time. That would have to wait until morning. In Rose's mind, Tony took precedence over anything else – be it showering, training, killing or friendship. She got changed into her silk nightdress and slid into the lower bunk. There was a soft knock on the door.

* * *

He breathed softly into her ear, 

"Never let anyone tell you that you're anything less than...perfect. You know it - and so do I. Those men – they don't think you are. But I do."

Tony's lips brushed softly against her cheeks as he slid his arms along hers. She blushed at the contact. He grasped her hands in his and raised her arms.

"Do it softly, gently. Don't force it, or it won't happen."

"Yes..."

"Those men...anybody...who doesn't recognize your...perfection is a fool. When they raise their weapons towards you, they are saying that they don't think you're perfect. They need to be taught a lesson."

"Mmmm..."

She had lost all capability of speech. Her breathing had become shallow and her heart was beating against her ribs with a powerful, fast rhythm.

"Rose, I want you to re-educate them."

She squeezed tightly and felt sudden warmth spread outwards. There was a jerk and she shook slightly. So powerful... The bullet smashed straight into the target's right eye. An instant kill – had it been a human and not a target dummy. The revolver heated up quickly, but to a trained user – that didn't matter. There was a joy found in those weapons that couldn't be found in semi-automatics. Paul could only watch with disapproval. That idiot was going to hurt himself getting so close to that girl. He was going to hurt his heart.

"Fire 10 shots," Paul told Amy, "if you don't get a bull's-eye with nine of them you can forget about having anything to eat today."

She fired and missed the small mark on the target with three of her bullets.

"Idiot. Keep practising, I'm going home."

* * *

"Rose?" 

Tony stepped slowly into her darkened room.

"Yes, I'm here."

Her voice, quiet and soft, drifted across the room: floating on the air. Tony walked up to her bed and knelt down.

"You did yourself proud, Rose. You can rest now. You've earned it."

He was stroking her hair.

"Tony-san?"

He could barely see her face in the darkness, but he knew that she could see him clearly with her augmented vision – he smiled for her.

"What is it?"

"Why do we have to stay in the Corporation?" Fear gripped him. That was dangerous talk. "Why can't we go to Japan again? We could go together! Forever!"

Her voice was exited and fast moving. But he didn't want to have to talk about their future. He knew, prehaps worse than anyone, the sting of losing a girl. A sting that was...inevitable. The average Cyborg can live for only a few years. One with little conditioning a few more. He said the only thing he could.

"Goodnight Rose."

He bent over to kiss her forehead. But she had moved herself so that he met her lips instead. They kissed like that only for a second or two, but it seemed like an age. Outside the building, Tony heard the traffic of the motorway like a growling voice cursing him for his foolishness at allowing himself to love this little girl. He took in everything. Every sound, every smell, every...taste. Then his mind snapped back. He pulled away.

"Goodnight Rose".

He was more forceful this time. He left the room hurriedly, a sense of dread descending over him. Beads of sweat had formed on his brow and his breathing had become shallow. He looked up and down the corridor and his attention was drawn to the door at the furthest end. Thank heavens it was late. Death lived beyond that door - and Death was sleeping.


	3. Mike, Sarah, ADAM and Sam

Chapter 3

"Hey Mike."

Tony dropped down onto the chair. The bar was dark and the haze of cigarette smoke drifted freely.

"Howdy, Tony. You're late back. Maybe the place will get happier now."

Michael had just made an unusually upbeat comment. He was a deep thinker, a contemplator. He rarely smiled. Rarely spoke unless spoken to. Ever since he was forced to order Sarah to... it hurt to think about it. Best not to, all things considered. Tony could tell right away – this wasn't Mike talking. This was the whiskey. A glass of the stuff was sitting on the bar table – silently mocking the two agents. Tony hadn't been truly happy for a good two years now – since Samantha died. Except when he was with Rose. And Mike knew it. The whiskey had got to him. Again.

"We stopped off for a while on the way back. Why? I didn't miss anything did I?"

"You missed ADAM at CCB training. Rose has some competition."

Humour? It sounded like an attempt at it to Tony. Mike really was drunk.

"We've known that since his creation, though. He's designed that way. Stronger. Faster. Better. You remember? Eve's been training him well, really well."

"He hurt Sarah."

Ah. No more humour. No more smiles. The reason he was spending his night drinking. Sarah and Mike were close. They were a perfect example of Fratello. Brother and sister in all but blood.

"What happened?"

Tony asked, but he knew the answer already – he had seen ADAM fight before.

"He snapped her leg like a twig. He didn't mean to, it just sort of happened. He was sorry, and they've fixed her now... but GODAMN!"

Tony jumped backwards, startled by this sudden outburst.

"I think you've had enough, don't you?"

He moved the whisky out of reach. Mike was in no condition to be drinking more. Then he saw his friend's eyes staring blankly into space. Remembering.

* * *

"Sarah, this is supposed to be a dinner party, and these guests are by no means allowed to see the takedown. Use your silencer, stick with me and let me do any talking – we'll get through this." 

"Yes sir." Her reply was calm and focused and it spoke of her efficiency.

Mike looked down at the black haired girl next to him. Her blue eyes shone in the evening light and her tie fluttered in the breeze. They were walking down towards the German Embassy in London, their mission: to kill an arms dealer who was attending a party there this evening– it wasn't the fact that he was an arms dealer that had earned him the attention of the BWC, it was the fact he was making a deal with the German government to buy Cyborg technologies. The Germans couldn't be held responsible; it was their tech, after all. But the BWC didn't want criminals with those kinds of operatives. Or criminals with those kind of contacts.

Mike straightened his tie – both wearing black suits with silver ties, they would have made an odd sight to anyone passing them in the street. Sarah dipped into the shadows of a doorway and slipped her Sig out of its holster to load it. Mike stopped and passed her a small silencer. Not terribly effective due to its small size, but there would be music and those embassy walls were thick. It was enough. She tucked the weapon back out of sight and sat the silencer in her pocket. Too bulky to attach to her weapon – she'd attach it later. It had started to snow. Certainly a beautiful evening for a party.

They had no invitation to this party, but Mike was nothing if not good at improvising. He headed straight towards the side entrance to the grounds – the gate was locked and bolted from the other side - but that wasn't a problem.

"Sarah, would you do the honours?"

He didn't need to explain further. Sarah narrowed her eyes in concentration as she set about picking the lock on the gate. Mike looked around for any signs that they had picked up attention. A clicking sound from the lock being opened drew his attention. He turned to Sarah, who winked at him before she took a jump at the wall. Easily clearing the four meter height she landed neatly on the other side. Turning, she reached up and un-bolted the gate.

"Alright, good work. Now comes the tricky bit."

Mike smiled at her as he stepped through and re-bolted the gate. Cyborgs. How did agents ever manage without them?

They made their way to the guests' entrance and Sarah took mental notes of the security level. Just in case. Four guards in the grounds with submachine guns under their jackets. A pitiful excuse at protection.

Sarah stopped walking and inhaled. The snow touched her fair skin and dissolved on contact.

"_Now that I, tying thy glass mask tightly,_

_May gaze through these faint smokes curling whitely,_

_As thou pliest thy trade in this devil's-smithy._

_Which is the poison to poison her, prithee?"_

Mike watched her with some fascination. Never before had he seen a twelve year old who could find peace before going into battle. Never before had he found a twelve year old who regularly quoted poetry before an operation. But never before had he seen a twelve year old who could jump a four meter wall in one go, or who could pick locks with such efficiency, or who could kill without a seconds thought if ordered to do so...

"Done?" Mike asked; a smile on his face.

"Yeah, done. I'm ready. Let's do this."

"Why do you do that?"

They headed up the steps to the entrance. The guard, assuming they had come in through the security checkpoint, opened the door for them. They entered a grand hallway, two flights of stairs curled upwards on either side, the floor was tiled black and white and above them was an intricate stained-glass dome.

"Do what?"

"The poetry. It isn't even about the mission!"

"It makes me relax. You told me it's best to be relaxed when infiltrating an area."

"Yeah I did. It's just...well, you know. A little weird."

He hoped to God that she wasn't insulted – young girls could be so delicate.

"Yeah, but that's why I'm so cute!"

Her reply was perfectly orchestrated. She was just like a sister to him. He fondly patted her shoulder as they entered the ballroom.

The pianist was part way through some soft classical piece. Not really loud enough for Mikes' taste, but it'd have to do to cover up any stray noise. His trained eyes scanned the room, looking for any sign of the mark. Sarah spotted him first.

"Over there. The one with the case, right?" She tugged Mikes' sleeve and indicated to the man with a briefcase who was leaving the room through a side-door into an empty corridor. They followed.

"We need to get a 100percent ID before we do anything."

Mike didn't want Sarah doing anything...rash.

"Alright."

So far they only had the black hair on his head and the leather briefcase. So far, so good – but they needed to be sure. The man turned and entered one of the rooms off the corridor.

"Ready?"

He turned and looked at Sarah. She grinned and removed her Sig and expertly twisted the silencer onto the end.

"Ready."

"Hide it in case this isn't the mark."

He entered the room, Sarah following with the Sig hidden behind her back. The man with the briefcase turned his head to look at them, startled. So did the bald man who was pointing a gun at him.

_Oh shit. What the fuck is going on? _Mike thought, _that's the guy alright, but who the fuck is this guy?_

The man with the gun turned to Mike and cast a quick glance at Sarah.

"Sir, I'm a Federal Police officer." The man's accent was heavily accented with German. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave. This man is under arrest."

_So...the deal was a trap. Not bad, Germany. But we're not allowed to be here legally. And we need to kill this man, not have him arrested. _

"Sarah. Disarm him."

The girl sprang forward and snapped the man's wrists with a swift twist. His 9mm dropped to the floor with a clatter. A kick to the jaw knocked him out cold. Mike heaved forwards into their mark – knocking him sprawling.

"Goddamn it. This is a situation."

He looked at Sarah as if he was going to get answers from her. What could he do? They had an unarmed, innocent, German federal police officer who had seen them and heard his English accent. It wouldn't take much for him to put two-and-two together and come up with the BWC. This operation was black book – operating in a foreign countries territory without that countries permission was strictly frowned upon to say the least.

"Sarah, rub out the mark."

She raised her pistol and put two bullets into the top of the mans head. Blood spurted outwards from the wounds, splashing as though the two bullets were two children leaping into a pool. A pool of blood. Lead children. A parody of life in death.

"Sir?" Sarah was obviously unsure of what to do, and Mike couldn't blame her. "What do I do with him?"

_Why? I don't want to kill this guy. He's an innocent, unarmed and unconscious. It's not right. _He ran a hand through his short brown hair, the stress in his features clearly visible.

"Do it. Kill him."

_I'm not going to sleep tonight. Or ever again._

The man woke up with a groan, leant against the wall drowsily and looked at Sarah. He was oblivious to the gun pointed at him.

"You look just like my daughter." He said in German.

_Oh shit. He just said "Daughter". _

The bullet hit the German between the eyes. His brains spattered onto the wall behind him, his head following with the force of the shot, his skull cracked against the wall and more blood flowed. He slid down the wall as the blood from the two corpses began to form just one large pool on the floor.

"Bollocks. Now we've done it."

"Huh? I thought you wanted him dead. You told me to."

Sarah was obviously confused. Oh if she could see inside HIS mind!

"Yeah. I guess. C'mon, let's go."

_I ordered an unarmed man shot. A man with a family. An innocent man. A fucking police officer! Oh god, what have I done?_

_

* * *

_

"Snap out of it, Mike."

Tony shook his friend roughly.

"Huh? Oh..."

Mike barely finished before he fell forwards, asleep.

"Oh bugger. C'mon, wake up."

It was a whole hour before Tony made it back to his room at the Corporation. Trying to wake Mike up with a coffee strong enough and then guiding him back across the compound to his room was not an experience he'd care to repeat. He was thinking about what Mike had said.

"_Rose has some competition." _

Yeah, that would be a fight-and-a-half for sure. He had never worked with ADAM himself, but since his inception at the Corporation he had quickly made a name for himself as competition for Rose. An eleven year old boy. Abused and almost murdered by a priest. He had been chosen specifically for his display of...talent. The bastard had set him on fire. But ADAM had found the strength of mind to remain focused. He had ended up impaling the priest on the crucifix over his altar. That was his reason for being chosen – strength, willing to kill and willpower. Before conditioning or upgrades! Given a new body – a completely new body, only his vital organs were still organic – he was a deadly combatant. His skeleton was completely bullet-proof, including the eyes: the traditional weak-spot of the Cyborgs. And his conditioning was, terrifying. He was a killing machine. He could be emotionless if he wanted. That was an ability which Rose lacked. But if he could, would Tony really want her emotions being put on hold? Of course not. Maybe. After tonight's kiss, he wasn't sure. Maybe it would be better all-round if he distanced himself from her...

"_Can you make me a promise?"_

"_Anything." . _

"_Love her."_

"_What...what do you mean?" _

"_Don't just treat her like...another partner, give her everything she needs. Love her. Love her...like I love you." _

He had made a promise. Love her. So he would. But how could he control her? Should he use conditioning? Or would that make him become more withdrawn? More mentally insecure? Tony led on his bed and started to weep. He could feel the walls crashing down around him. He could feel his tears entering his mouth and drowning him. Suddenly a dark spectre entered the room. He couldn't see it, but it was there – and it wanted to harm him. He started shaking, but a powerful pair of hands was holding him down. He started to scream as a needle entered his neck. The daemons within began to rip their way out of his chest in a spray of gore. There were blinding discs of light flashing before his eyes.

He awoke, crouched in the corridor in just his shorts. The lights were off and there was something icy cold pressing against his shoulder. A rifle. Loaded. He dropped it in horror and curled backwards into the corner. How far could this get? Could he actually have shot someone without knowing? He drew his legs up to his chest and wrapped his bony arms around them. His hair was dishevelled and getting in his eyes. His tears were clear against his pale, almost ghostly, face. He looked down at his chest, his ribs we're clearly visible, seeming to poke through the skin which was stretched over them – tight like a drum. It wasn't his fault. Sometimes he just...forgot to eat. Or sleep. Or smile. Usually when he was away from Rose. He shook these thoughts out of his head. He'd just sit here for a bit. In the dark, warm corner. Corner... Corner... That implied the end of the corridor. Terror. His sudden, inexplicable fears were confirmed by a creaking noise as the door next to him opened.

"What are you doing?"

ADAM's voice cut the silence like a sword. Tony sensed that was just a polite way of saying: _You pathetic person. Get back to you room. _But lately what Tony sensed and what was actually happening were two different things. He looked up at the boy stood in the doorway. He was wearing black pyjamas. ADAM always wore black. Nothing else. It was his handler, Eve. She thought it would be clever to name him after Adam from the Bible – the first of his kind. ADAM was the first of his kind, too. The prototype. The Alpha Male Program. She thought it would be a sign of his skill if he wore only black. His skill... Tony had seen him operate in training only a few times. But that was enough. ADAM had punched clean through a brick wall. ADAM had taken out a dozen black-belts after viewing only a selection of cards showing various martial-arts techniques. Memorised and then used. ADAM had fired an M60 from the hip and been startlingly accurate. ADAM had used a pair of assault rifles as pistols and got the same results. But then he had said that it was simply "A waste of ammo". ADAM. Stronger. Faster. Better. His short blonde hair was messy and his piercing green eyes had the merest hint of red light in the pupils – the glow from deep within his skull. He was quite simply terrifying. How Eve managed with him was beyond Tony. And how she managed to stay so nice to everyone, especially him, even whilst this daemon-child stood at her side...

"_Rose has some competition." _

But Rose wasn't terrifying. She was...perfect.

"I'm... not doing anything..."

Tony was lost for words. What could he say? How could he explain to this darkly scary child that the reason he was shivering, sweating and half naked in the corner of a corridor looking for all the world like a skeleton or some creature from a horror novel with a loaded gun by his feet was that he saw hell in his dreams? That he felt his soul being ripped to shreds, nothing more than a plaything for the hounds? He couldn't.

"If you insist."

ADAM shrugged and closed the door. He headed back to bed. He probably wouldn't even remember this in the morning. His conditioning was frightfully strong. There was only one thing he remembered outside his handler. Jennifer. The girl in the Corporation who had taken him to heart. The one who had been with him during training. Who had accompanied him as a friend. The only one he cared for. The only one he loved. Her handler, Thomas, was distant: but not cruel. Maybe, though, she found a friend in ADAM, someone she could relate to? That was how it had been for him. Eve was friendly to him, but she didn't love him. ADAM sensed that there was another she loved. Who? It didn't matter, really. But where were Jennifer and Thomas? They'd left for some operation in Edinburgh a week ago and not yet gotten back. He was alone - the other girls and staff at the BWC regarded him with fear. And hatred. And anger. Because he would replace their girls. Because his lifespan was more than triple that of an average Cyborg. Because he was perfect. But there was another who claimed perfection. Rose. He had seen her only occasionally, always with her handler who seemed to treat her with more love than was normal. That had been him outside. Quivering. Looking ill. Looking afraid. What was wrong with him anyway? It didn't matter, thought ADAM as he climbed into bed. He probably wouldn't even remember this in the morning.

Tony got back into his room and got dressed. This wasn't unusual in itself – he often got up and walked around the grounds at night. He just couldn't sleep. What was unusual was the 9mm pistol he took with him.

He headed across to the building opposite his on the compound. The dormitory. He affixed a silencer to his gun – he would have preferred to use his Peacemaker but attempting to silence such a weapon was idiocy. And he wanted quiet for what he was about to do. He headed up to the second floor. To Rose's room. He opened the door and walked in, levelling the pistol at Rose's head. He clicked back the hammer and placed his finger on the trigger. Tony's face was a mask of concentration.

_Fire. Shoot her in the head and run away. Go to some foreign country to hide. Live the rest of your life alone. It's what you deserve. Go on! Do it! Free yourself from her!_

"O-mi-god! What are you doing?"

Tony looked up and saw Sarah looking at him from the top bunk – an expression of horror in her eyes.

"I..."

"Tony? What is it?"

She knew that something was wrong. She could tell. It must be all the poetry she read. She was as deep a thinker as Michael. Smart and intelligent. Tony raised his gun to her face instead. Then he lowered it.

"Just...forget this. Just forget about it. Go back to sleep, Sarah."

He left the room with tears welling up in his eyes for the third time that night. He walked to the garden area of the compound and cast his pistol into the pond there.

_Coward! Weakling! You should have shot the other one! That other bitch will rat you out now!_

"No she won't. I trust her."

He replied to the voice. His mistake. That made it worse. He should have known.

_Your trust is misplaced I assure you. Look at yourself. You're a broken man after the first one died. And then you think you can help by falling in love with your next? I pity you._

"You can't feel pity. You don't exist."

_For someone who doesn't exist you're certainly having a good argument with me, Tony Kite! You're completely insane aren't you?_

"I...No! I'm not!"

_Hmmm, interesting diagnosis doctor. _The voice was laughing! Could voices like that mock you and laugh at their own jokes? Apparently so. _I wonder if I took you along to a professional they could sort you out. Probably not. You'd be locked away for child abuse, attempted murder and for being a danger to yourself and those around you. Pathetic._

"Who are you?"

_Me? I have no name. I am you. But if you must name me...call me Sam. _

"Sam. Fine. One day I'm going to kill you."

_I think you'll find that quite difficult my friend._

When Tony awoke in his room the next day he quickly dressed in his suit (without a tie and with his collar undone. Lately it seemed as though he was being choked...) and headed towards the compound canteen. He would have to try and avoid Rose today if he could. His mind was spinning with the arrival of this new...identity? He saw Eve walking down the corridor towards him. Dressed smartly in her suit and with her brown hair pulled up into a bun she was the model of an efficient agent.

"Tony! God! You look terrible! Another bad night?"

Eve knew. She had watched him wander aimlessly through the darkness of the compound late at night.

"Yeah..." his voice was haggard and straining to form his words.

"Well, you better get ready, this is going to be a bad day. The Chief has called an emergency meeting."

That was bad.

"Huh? Why? What happened?"

"We lost contact with Thomas and Jennifer a couple of days ago."

"Uh-huh."

He remembered. There had been a panic to find them again, but then he and Rose had been sent to deal with the men travelling to Lancaster.

"I spoke to the Chief earlier. It seems they might have been...kidnapped. Their targets were waiting for them. The entire operation – the terrorist threats, the ease of finding where they were hiding out - it was all a trap," there was only one reason for a trap: if that was the case; "we...we think they're planning to find out how to make Cyborgs."

"Oh... Shit."

He ran a hand through his hair. Eve looked at him sadly.

"Tony."

"Yeah?"

"They're planning to use this as an opportunity to test ADAM in the field."

"Oh... So you're going to pull them out of there?"

"The Chief received...something through the mail. It might be a ransom, or something else. But it doesn't look good, Tony. You better get ready; we'll need the best for this one. That means Rose. And you. I don't want ADAM facing this alone."

He looked into her hazel eyes, and saw the sadness; the pity that was in there. She placed a hand softly on his shoulder.

"You'll be okay?"

"Yeah, just... give me some time to wake up..."

"Okay. Be strong, Tony Kite."

She walked away, a look of pity and sadness etched on her face. Why? Why so sad? She wasn't suffering, was she? How could his pain affect her too?

It was as though a shadow passed over him.

_You hear that? ADAM! They've already begun to drop you! And your little girlfriend is no longer useful to them, so she'll be...decommissioned. _

The voice was laughing at him again. Then it was over.

The shadow lifted and once again he was alone in a dark corridor, shivering with fear, hatred, confusion and every other feeling of despair. He could feel himself screaming inside. They were going to test ADAM. His Rose was useless to them... ADAM was...

Stronger. Faster. Better.


	4. Preparation

Chapter 4

The briefing room was quiet as the few assembled Fratello agents awaited their Chief. There was a tangible tension in the air – the news about the Thomas/Jennifer Fratello's kidnapping had spread quickly and all were eager to hear the complete story. A side door to the briefing room opened up and Richard Sutherland walked in, carrying a video tape in his hand.

"Ladies and Gentlemen. Early this morning we received notification that the Thomas/Jennifer Fratello has fallen into the hands of their targets. It seems that it was an elaborate trap designed to deliver a Cyborg into their hands. We received into our hands via mail a package containing two items." Sutherland placed both his hands flat on the table as two men wheeled a television screen in behind him. He waited for them to leave before sliding a small red object across the table, so that the agents could see. Tony saw. He saw that the object was a small, transparent plastic bag, barely three inches in width and height. It was full of blood. Inside the blood, Tony saw clearly what looked like a ...finger. A little girl's finger.

"We also received this videotape." Sutherland sighed, the lines of his careworn face betraying his revulsion and sadness, and he flattened down his grey hair as he continued,

"The footage is...distressing to say the least. But I would advise that you force yourselves to view it as the tape contains some detailed clues as to the enemy's location and strength."

He inserted the tape and pressed 'PLAY'. After a few seconds of static, the screen came to life. A man wearing a balaclava and military fatigues looked at them. Behind him were a brown stone wall of unpainted bricks and the movement of men and weapons that spoke of an efficient, well trained force. Tony forced himself to take note of what he could – the dust on the few windows made them difficult to see out of – but there was an outline strangely reminiscent of the castle at Edinburgh.

"Agents of the British Welfare Corporation." The voice was heavily laden with the Scottish accent.

"We have learned, through our research and study of our mission failures, of your Cyborg projects. We have decided to inform you of your situation at this time for many reasons. The first being that there is not a thing you can do about it. Our hideout is well defended. Even Cyborgs must die if hit with enough bullets."

He picked up an M16 from a case by his feet. The video paused. Sutherland spoke,

"That voice belongs to one Ewan McDonald. He has been actively resisting the English influence in Scotland for many years and appears to have risen through the ranks of the Scottish Nationalists due to his, ah, determination and ruthlessness."

He let the video play on. The voice spoke again from the speakers.

"We are well on our way to resisting your tyrannical use of children to attack our people and our nation. But sometimes, you have to sink to your enemy's level before you can best him."

The man moved to one side to reveal a broken and bloodied man chained to a table. Clearly the agent Thomas. Even through the blood his blond hair was recognizable. Tony had seen this terrorist group operate like this before – the end result was always the same... A man moved towards Thomas and placed an iron nail on his forearm – between the radius and ulna. There was a hammer blow and Thomas's arm was cracked apart. The same happened to his other arm. The blood. The shattered bones. The screams. A third nail was raised to his head. Another blow drove the six-inch iron spike through his skull in a jet of blood. The man, Ewan, turned back to the camera.

"We take no prisoners, as you can see. Except, of course, when they serve our needs."

He walked out of view and the camera turned to follow him. There was a young girl manacled to the wall, her clothes torn and shredded – her blood drenching them. The camera caught her face and every agent in the room inhaled sharply. Her eyes were missing. In their place were two pools of blood and gore. She was gagged. Ewan walked over to her and started stroking her blood-soaked blonde hair.

"We've been doing a bit of research, as you can see." He indicated the cuts and wounds on her body. "Well, what we've discovered is promising. However it might be interesting to note exactly how much suffering these little girls can tolerate before they...become useless."

He removed a serrated knife from its scabbard and placed it next to her hand, which he flattened out onto the wall. He counted along each digit until he came to the middle finger. He tore off the gag and cut deeply. With a sawing sound he cut through the artificial, toughened muscle and metallic skeleton. He then ripped the rest of the finger off and drove the knife through her hand, pinning it to the wall – blood started to flow swiftly from the wound. The girl screamed as though her lungs were about to explode. She was sobbing – her tears bloody as they poured out of the empty eye sockets.

"Here dearie, dry your eyes."

Ewan forced a piece of cloth into each of her eyes, and then set each piece on fire. He turned back to the camera.

"Your girls really are resilient. I'm most impressed. But, we have all we need for now. How about...one last...humiliation?"

He breathed it out as though the very thought of his next act was giving him pleasure.

"But...I am not a monster. I am not like you. I do not abuse little girls."

_Yeah, good job proving that, wanker. _

Ewan continued.  
"My men, on the other hand, have no such qualms. The video has a timer on it you see and you've got...oh a good few minutes yet."

He turned to his men.

"Rape her."

Tony rose from his seat.

"We don't need to see this."

"Yes..." Sutherland turned to the screen. "I agree. We have everything we need."

He switched of the screen as two men began to tear at the girls clothes. The lights in the room flickered on and off for a few seconds before settling and emitting an unnatural pale light.

"Eve. Can ADAM handle this?"

"Hmm, he was very close to Jennifer. It might be overwhelming for him on his first mission. But he could probably handle the enemy. I'd more feel comfortable if there was another Fratello involved, though."

"Alright. I'm going to assign Tony and Rose to this operation as well. You orders are to kill Ewan McDonald and his men. Try and salvage what you can of Jennifer and Thomas. It would be better if the police did not find their remains."

Sutherland spoke sadly – he'd lost a good Fratello.

"You're to leave at nineteen-hundred hours when our team has analysed the tape and found an estimated location. The idiots left too many clues on there, but to make sure you don't fall into a trap – Tony and Eve, I'm giving you access to our armoury for this one. Get whatever you'll need."

As one they responded.

"Yes sir!"

"Alright, the rest of you, work on your current tasks unless instructed otherwise. We'll keep you informed as information comes in. Oh. I want to speak to Tony in my office. Dismissed."

The agents filed out of the room. Paul caught up to Tony.

"Oh what've you done now, eh? You better...my god."

He had seen Tony's face. More skull-like and pale than ever.

"Did you get any sleep? Were they that bad?"

"It was worse than usual. I ended up crouching in the hallway. Armed."

Paul was the only one who knew properly of his...condition. And only because he had once seen Tony's tormented, sleepless nights for himself whilst in the field.

"Bloody hell... mate, listen to me. You need to see one of the doctors about this. Soon."

_You'll be fired from the Corporation. Cast out. Rejected. You got lucky when they chose you to go on this operation, Tony Kite. But if you see a doctor you'll never see Rose again. She'll be decommissioned and buried in an unmarked grave. And it will be your fault for listening to these people. They don't want to help you – they're out to take your place. They hate Rose's perfection._

He dispelled the voice with a shake of his head.

"Refusing? Hell, it's your funeral. You'd better hurry to the Chief."

Paul walked off towards the training ground to meet with his 'partner' – he seemed so normal sometimes. But then you saw him with Amy. And you knew he was a bastard.

Tony headed towards the Chiefs Office. Thoughts raced through his mind. Some his own, some...not. Why am I here? What did I do? Did they find out about last night?

_They know you tried to kill Rose, I told you that cow would rat you out._

He knocked twice.

"Come in."

* * *

The hospital room stank of disinfectant. There was a single window allowing light in, but most of the light came from the eerie, unnatural glow of florescent bulbs. Sutherland indicated a chair inside, next to a bed with the sleeping shape of a young girl in it. 

"Do you want to sit down?" Tony sat. "I'm still surprised you came back so early – you took Samantha's loss pretty badly. You've been through a lot; I...wasn't expecting you to call."

"Yeah, well I feel much...better now." A lie. "I'm back on my feet. And anyway, this might be what I need: a fresh start."

But there was more. He never told anyone about how he had started hearing voices after Samantha's death, how he started having night-terrors that didn't end when he awoke, how he often dreamt of his own death. He never told anyone about the drugs, about the needles that still haunted him when he shut his eyes. He never told anyone how he viewed this new girl as his cure. Or how he viewed her as a way to keep a promise. Others may have thought that he had problems. They never knew the half of it.

"You still look ill, you know."

"Maybe I am, I don't know. But things like that can...change you. Look, I need to get back to what I do best. The emptiness; the loneliness, it was all too much. I couldn't cope with it."

"Alright." Sutherland sighed. "This is your new partner we've assigned you to."

He indicated the girl in the bed with a wave of his arm. She looked bad. Missing her left hand and both of her legs. Her face was wrapped in a bandage and her hair appeared to have been cut roughly off – only a few ragged tufts of dark red-brown hair remained.

"Sir, what happened to her?"

"Her parents owed money to the wrong sort of people. They came and torched her home. The burns on her face were caused by the fire."

_So that's why she's bandaged... poor girl._

"Then the bastards took her into a field along with her parents. They shot her father first, then the mother. But they simply raped and mutilated her. They left her to die. She's got a strong constitution, though. She was still conscious when a man found her the next day. That's why we chose her."

Tony nodded. By God, this girl was strong.

"Her old name was 'Marie Rosa Andrews'. But that isn't the girl she will become. That name no longer matters," Sutherland looked into Tony's piecing grey eyes; "what are you going to name her?"

Tony looked around the room. He needed something that symbolised the love he had promised to give to this girl. He thought of her middle name, 'Rosa' and his eyes settled on the small glass vase on the windowsill. In it was a single red rose.

"I'll call her Rose."

"So be it. She should be waking up any time now – I'll let you introduce yourself to her alone."

Sutherland left the room. The door swung to and fro behind him before calming down and shutting properly. Tony moved the chair closer to the girl. He could just about see her eyelids, un-burnt and not bandaged. They flickered open to reveal two deep pools of chocolate brown. Eyes that you could lose yourself in for hours. And they looked straight at him. In that moment the void that had been inside Tony for months was filled up with something new. Love. He took a Colt Peacemaker out of his shoulder holster and span the chambers, making sure it was empty. He placed it softly into the grip of her right hand.

"Good afternoon, Rose. My name is Tony Kite and I'll be looking after you."

* * *

He entered the office and saw Sutherland sitting behind his dark oak desk. He looked concernedly at Tony. A frown sat upon his face. 

"Take a seat, son."

Tony did as he was told

"Tony, you might be wondering why I assigned you to this case. To be honest with you, so am I. The details aren't pleasant – I'm hoping you'll be...okay with it. We don't want to almost lose you again. After Samantha..."

Tony remained silent. There was no need for him to say about the voice ('Sam' was it calling itself now?). There was no need to tell Sutherland about the dreams, or about how close he had come that last night to killing Rose. Or himself.

"What you need to realise is that ADAM is strong, but operating alone on his first mission would be, ah, detrimental to our mission success. Rose is, as you say, perfect. She's our finest operative with experience."

"_With experience." See? He's mocking you already._

"This is the Alpha Male Program's first true test. We need the best to help ensure ADAM succeeds. If there is something unexpected I have no doubt he will be able to cope, but we need someone with Rose's talent to act as support in case there are complications."

_Rose is only support now, you see. You're being cast aside even as he gives you a job._

"Tony. Lately you've been worrying us. Eve came to see me earlier. You haven't been sleeping. You've been walking around the grounds at night for hours on end. She's seen you order food and then sit and stare at it. You need to prepare yourself completely for this operation. Rest a while. Spend some time relaxing. Talk to Rose. You've got to be ready both physically and mentally. Can you do that?"

_Of course you can't. You know you're going to fail. You'll screw everything up and you'll all be killed._

"Of course I can do that sir."

He tried to seal the voice away. To ignore it.

"When you get back, we're going to have another little talk, Tony. I'm going to help you get better."

"Yes, sir."

"Oh, Tony, by the way. I noticed Michael wasn't at the briefing earlier. Speak to Sarah – see if she knows where he is, will you?"

"Sir."

Tony stood up, knowing he had at least one more day. One more day of blissful mental anguish with Rose. One more day before his weaknesses were exposed to the world – he could feel it coming. Coming with the force of a bullet, of a bomb. Unstoppable. Inevitable. He walked out of the office, lost in someone else's thoughts.

"_Help you get better"? That man isn't going to help you Tony Kite. He's going to kill you – he just doesn't know it yet._


	5. Rain and Death

Chapter 5

"Sarah, if you see him, tell him to see the Chief, will you?" Tony asked as he made his way to the armoury building with Rose. They had passed Sarah on the way and had brought up Mike's disappearance. Sarah hadn't seen him either.

"Yes sir. I'll go looking for him right away." Sarah replied.

"That's a good girl." Tony began to turn away, but felt someone tugging at the hem of his suit jacket. He turned and saw the concerned look in Sarah's eyes. He glanced at Rose, by his side.

"Rose, could you hurry on ahead? I'll follow in a minute. There's something important I have to say to Sarah."

Rose glared jealously and angrily at Sarah. Tony was hers: but here SHE was trying to 'speak' with him! But if Tony insisted...

"Yes sir."

She turned and carried on towards the armoury building. Rain beat down around her, causing a rattling drum roll on the ground. The drops danced around her feet as she walked along in the rain.

Tony turned to Sarah.

"What is it?"

"About last night..."

"That...was an accident." Tony was scared again, what would she do?

"I want you to know – I'm not going to tell anyone."

Thank god.

"Why? I would in your position."

"Because I've seen you with Rose. Whatever is wrong with you is...not my business. I know you would never really hurt her. But Tony?"

"Yeah? What is it?"

"When you get back...could you please talk to someone? Mike could use some support, and you could use his..."

"When I get back I'll help Mike for you. Then I'll think about getting some help support. When things are calm again."

"Okay."

Sarah walked off, the rain soaking her hair.

"_When things are calm again."_

Things were never calm at the British Welfare Corporation. Tony was condemning himself. It wasn't her problem, really. But she wanted to help Rose stay happy, and Rose could only stay happy if this man was always going to be there for her.

_And he won't be,_ she thought to herself sadly, _not at the rate he's going..._

_

* * *

_

Tony quickly caught up with Rose. She was storming to herself: pacing around and around the fountain in the centre courtyard.

"What's wrong?" Although he could probably guess.

"Sarah. Speaking to you. She isn't allowed." He would have guessed right.

"Rose..." He walked over to her, she seemed to be crying, but it was hard to tell in the rain. He knelt down on one knee and kissed her forehead. "She needed to talk about Mike...he isn't well."

Cyborg little girls certainly could be delicate.

"She...wasn't trying to take you away?"

"I wouldn't let her even if she was. I love you."

He took her head in both hands and started to try and wipe her tears away.

"Ha! There's no point me doing this. The rainwater just gets back in."

He offered the gentle joke. She smiled.

"Yeah... I guess."

"No one's going to take me away, Rose. I won't let them. Me and you forever."

She held him tight to her. She felt the bones in his back through his wet suit.

"Forever." She needed that. The confirmation.

"Yes, Rose. Forever. Together."

He kissed her wet hair and stood up. Taking her hand in his he said,

"Come on, let's gear up."

"Tony-san?"

"Yes, Rose?"

"Arigato. Arigato...for being here with me. I can't think of what I'd do without you..."

He thought of last night. Of trying to shoot this girl. That hadn't been him, he decided. That had been the voice, Sam, behind those actions – he needed to tell himself that. If he did it enough – maybe he'd believe it.

"Well you don't need to. I'm not going to go anywhere. I'll always be here with you, Rose."

They walked together to the armoury to get their guns, hand-in-hand.

* * *

Sarah was wandering around searching for her 'brother'. His room was locked: he never locked it except when he wasn't in, and she'd wandered the grounds for almost an hour after Rose and Tony had gone with ADAM and Eve to get...something to do with Jennifer? Sarah wasn't sure, but it would be nice to see her friend again. But she had a feeling she might not. And Mike was nowhere to be seen. Where was he? Gone! Dust in the wind! Where? To which direction did that wind blow? She smiled grimly to herself. The reception kept records of all signings in and out made by agents. Even for personal reasons. They would know if he had signed out. They would know. Somewhere across the compound a band was playing – an afternoon's entertainment for the general public: in the house where children are destroyed and men torn apart - come let the public in: to listen to music for the price of a ticket. Blissfully unaware of the charnel house around them. Poor fools. Sarah shook these thoughts out of her head and back to the subject at hand. Now was no time to wax lyrical. Maybe Mike just needed some time alone, some time to rest.

"_And bring no book, for this one day_

_We'll give to idleness."_

Wordsworth had said that. Maybe all Mike needed was some time to rest. But not this day. Another, but not this day. This day she needed to talk to him. What she had witnessed that past night...

_The contorted face of a daemon. Levelling a gun at her friend, then herself. It's quiet, whispered voice. Then darkness._

Tony needed help, or he would hurt someone. Probably Rose; Sarah thought to herself as she headed back up to Dorms to try Mike's door again. And she couldn't let Rose get hurt. Rose was her friend. And she knew also that inside himself, Tony didn't want her to get hurt either. But Sarah was nothing if not bright. That hadn't been Tony last night. There had been...another. The band played on, the audience silent in appreciation of their gentle tune.

* * *

The car sped along the motorway in the driving rain. Inside: Eve sat in the driver's seat; Tony, beside her, was carefully cleaning his antique revolvers. In the back ADAM and Rose sat and talked about guns, life and the passing scenery. To a casual observer, just driving past, they might have been a normal family. Except then they would look closer. They would see the guns. They would see the children discussing the locations of major arteries on the body - and how to shoot them open. They would see the clear difference between the smart, organised young woman doing the driving and the dishevelled, haunted, almost-dead look of the pale, gaunt man beside her.

Eve glanced across at Tony as he meticulously cleaned out the chambers of his Peacemakers.

"Why don't you use a regular gun?" She asked him: but it was a question he had been asked so many times before.

"When I was a kid, I used to love westerns. The guns were just...so much cooler than anything modern. When I got a job at the Corporation, I trained with a 9mm. But I hated every second I spent with that gun, so I shopped around and came up with these beauties. Over a century old and still in working order. They've been loved by a lot of people, clearly. I'm just the latest in a long line of caretakers."

"But, revolvers take so long to reload! And only six shots! How do you manage in a fire-fight?"

Tony laughed. A rare sound. It showed in the way it seemed to grate along his throat.

"I manage because six bullets are more than enough to kill anything that moves. And I love reloading. It's a thrill you can't get by anything else. Plus, there are the firing stances, the tricks you can pull and the advantages over more modern pistols such as being able to fool your opponent into thinking you've still got a bullet in your gun when in fact you just fired your last one into their friend. I've used that one before. Do you want me to go on?"

It was Eve's turn to laugh. It sounded full and joyful, a different sound to Tony's. There was a connection between these two, though. They could talk, laugh, and get along. But Tony wasn't easy to talk, laugh or get along with. Not anymore. He was usually distant, but Eve had quickly learnt that all it took was a slight nudge when he was concentrating on something other than his...problems and it was as though he was his old self again. Free. Unworried. Only for a brief while, then the darkness would creep back in. And it made him seem...irredeemable. She desperately wanted for him to return to the man she once knew. Back in happier times. Times when she thought that she could love him.

* * *

Sarah peered through the keyhole of the door to Mike's room as the band began a rendition of Verdi's Requiem. Dies Irae. The sun was going down behind the closed curtains – but she could just about make out the silhouette of a man sat in a chair. He looked like he was sleeping.

"Mike? Mike! Michael, open up! It's Sarah!" Her voice rang out through the corridors. It caught the ear of Richard Sutherland who was passing on the floor below. He started to walk in the voice's direction.

"Mike? Are you all right?"

No reply.

"Mike? Right. I'm coming in. I'd better not get into trouble for this. And you'd better have your pants on."

No reply to her joke. This was serious. Sutherland was nearly at their floor now, intrigued to find out where one of his top agents, an agent who had created a textbook Fratello unit with Sarah, had been for the past day, this most dark and saddening of days. It was about to get darker and more saddening. He was still churning after the video of Thomas and Jennifer; he'd forced himself to watch it through all the way – just in case it gave away any clues. But the team had narrowed it down, by the height of the room (based on the window's views), the building's position in regards to major landmarks and streets seen through the window, to only a few possible locations. Locations which even now Eve and Tony were heading towards. Another smart move. Eve and Tony got along well. Very well most of the time. Maybe it would do Tony some good. Take his mind off his past and off Rose for a little while whilst he worked with someone else close to him.

Sarah smashed the door open with a single kick and entered the dark, curtained room. There was a slight light. Just enough to see Mike by.

He was dead.

Sat upwards in his chair, wearing a pair of boxers and a vest, he had a bottle of whisky next to him on the table. The medicine cabinet hung open and next to the whisky an upturned bottle of blue and white pills lay opened, its contents spilling out onto the smooth wooden table surface. Around his mouth was a foamy substance and several pills sticking to his jaw. Several more were stuck to the sticky foamy patches on his vest. His skin was mottled and clammy: patched with sweat. There was blood trickling from his nose. Overdose. Suicide. He couldn't take what he had done. What he had done to Sarah. No longer a girl. It was too wrong. These weren't children. They were monsters.

_I'm not going to sleep tonight. Or ever again._

How right he had been.

Her pupils rapidly dilated.

_No more reason to go on. It's fitting that there's a requiem playing._

She turned and walked out of the room, and headed for the roof.

_They're going to decommission me._

Sutherland cast a single glance into the room where Michael sat dead in his chair. A sudden dawning came over him and he realised where Sarah must have gone. He ran to the roof. She was stood upon the brink, letting the music fill her ears. She turned when he burst out of the door – his smart brown suit creased and tight, more suited to typing and lecturing than any sort of action.

"You're not going to decommission me. I won't let you. I choose my own fate."

"Sarah! Listen to me." His voice was desperate. "We won't decommission you. Our technology has moved on! We can find a way to save you. We can make you forget it all."

"I don't want to forget." She turned back to the edge and looked down at the fountain below.

"Sarah! You have a life ahead of you!"

"_Quoth the raven, "Never More"._"

She cast herself off.

Her head impacted into the concrete bottom of the fountain with a sickening crack. Her face split open and as her blood flooded outwards, so her lungs let the water flood inwards. The band stopped playing. The audience roared its approval. And in such a manner did Sarah, of the Michael/Sarah Fratello, who had been the textbook example of the Fratello system, pass from this world.

To thunderous applause.


	6. The Calm Before The Storm

Chapter 6

Richard Sutherland sat at his desk, his head in his hands. He felt physically sick; as though his stomach was churning around and around like a tumble dryer. He reached up and removed his glasses. They were drenched with sweat. Placing them on the desk he sat back in his chair and shut his eyes. Maybe he could wake up from this nightmare...

"_Quoth the raven, never more"_

He startled and jumped up in his chair. He'd just watched a girl throw herself off of a building to her death. Two Fratello gone in one day... He craned his neck and peered at the ambulances outside. He wondered if he could ever look into those clear, cool waters again. The blood. All he would see was her blood. Red like wine, yet much, much more potent. He shivered and pressed his intercom – he had to talk to the last Fratello agent on the base with enough experience to be trustworthy...

* * *

"Paul, how are you doing?" Sutherland stood up and shook Paul's hand.

"Okay, sir. You?"

They both sat down on either side of Sutherland's desk.

"I assume you've noticed the ambulances?"

"Of course, there was some talk of an accident..."

"Mike killed himself, Paul."

Paul's eyes widened.

"God... Why? How?"

"He...took an overdose. We don't know of what yet, and we don't have any real evidence as to why..."

"Because he felt sorry for the girls."

Paul was cold – no emotion in his voice. His eyes had narrowed – the surprise at Mike's death gone now.

"Maybe."

"They're only weapons. Maybe if he'd have not bothered being nice to Sarah then he wouldn't be dead! I take it she's going to be decommissioned then? Or shipped to the research department?"

"No she won't be."

Sutherland sighed, and continued;

"She jumped to her death. Into the fountain."

"Jesus fucking Christ. These Cyborgs need to be conditioned! Why have a weapon that might backfire? Look at the problems it causes! The girls need training and conditioning. I've told you before, sir, haven't I?"

Paul was stood up now, his hands on the back of his head.

"Yes, you have, Paul. Now sit down, please. I understand that you feel that conditioning is the answer. But I don't think brainwashing children any more than is absolutely necessary is going to benefit this society."

Paul sat. This was no time to argue the toss with the Chief. He was, after all, the Chief. But that idiot Mike...

"Okay sir. Why did you have me brought up here?"

"I need your help."

* * *

The man was a prat. Always trying to be moral. Paul hated Sutherland now more than ever. Morals! Whilst he ordered the brainwashing of children Sutherland had the nerve to claim a moral high ground! But Paul could take solace in one thing. He wouldn't be a part of this insane 'morality'. This 'love'. This disease that had caused the death of one elite Fratello would not infect HIM.

The walls of the apartment had peeling paint and the room was plain. Paul never thought anything of it – he was living in the compound because that was regulations for a Cyborg Handler, he was here to do his job – not fuss over decorations or paint. He sat back in his chair by the window, it was a Saturday – he should be relaxing.

But he had a job to do right now. Find Tony Kite and bring him back at once. In his state, even with Eve to try and look after him, he could wind up getting hurt. Paul hated being an errand boy. But he at least regarded Tony as something of a friend. Even if their friendship had strained after he lost Samantha, Paul still thought of him as a friend. An idiot, but a friend all the same. But Tony could be scary at times. Paul actually wondered if deep down he actually wanted friendship with anyone except Rose. Rose. How he hated that girl. It was her fault that Tony was so...unstable. Her fault that the only person Tony could be happy around was her. And occasionally Eve.

"Eve, you idiot. Can't you recognise that the man you fell in love with is dead?"

He said it to no one in particular. The building was empty anyway. The Fratello were either out on operations or dead and the other staff were hurriedly trying to sort out Mike's suicide. The official announcement had shocked everyone. Mike was a well liked, even if sometimes he was a bit depressing lately. Sometimes it seemed as though he'd even come out of his shell and be his old self again. His old self. That phrase was creeping up a lot, Paul thought with a grim smile. Mike used to be so...normal. Tony, hell, Tony used to be beyond normal. He was always so popular. So good. It seemed that there was nothing he couldn't do and do better than anyone else. That man had died in an apartment room a little over a year ago. He died with his partner, machine gunned by a street thug. The current Tony Kite was little more than a faded memory, a bad dream.

He picked up his phone and hit the hotkey #1.

"Amy. Meet me in the car-park in ten minutes. Bring your weapons."

He turned the phone off without bothering to listen for a reply. He probably wouldn't need his guns, but you could never be too careful. Anyway, maybe he could get involved in a fire-fight with that gang Tony was going to kill. That would be good practise for Amy. Maybe she'd pick up some skills...get better. She'd need to – especially if she was going to become the perfect soldier.

_Not going to happen, Paul,_ he told himself. But he would keep on trying. He had the willpower to keep on trying. That was enough. That was enough.

* * *

"Sir, what are our orders?"

Amy looked through her weapons bag whilst saying this – she had quickly learned that she didn't need to bother looking at her 'brother'. He never cared. He didn't even look at the girl by his side as he spoke. The setting sun burnt into the horizon like an angry god. The rain had lifted, finally. Maybe he could make some headway.

"What weapons did you bring?"

Paul ignored her original question as he turned onto the motorway. Tony and Eve would have a good few hours head start, but he could probably find them once there. He just hoped that Tony's mind would still be intact. That was the purpose of this job. Sutherland, prat that he was, didn't want to lose another agent today. So Tony, seeming dangerously unstable, was to be brought back to the Corporation buildings near Oxford. Then a team of psychologists would work with him to bring his fragile, almost shattered, mind back to its previous condition. That was the only reason Paul was doing this job without complaining or swearing under his breath. It would be nice to see Tony again. Not the broken creature that had taken his place, where only occasionally the light of his past would shine through, but the old, healthy, normal Tony Kite who used to walk the corridors of the BWC.

"I brought two H&K USP Elites, a dissembled MSG90A1 rifle – just in case - and a Remington 12 Gauge for you, sir."

"Where are the SMGs? The grenades? Don't tell me that you forgot them."

"Erm... I thought that the sniper rifle would be able to deal with range shots and the shotgun with close up... Our pistols are good and reliable too."

"You idiot." He reached across and hit Amy across the cheek with the back of his hand; "You brought no SMGs to a mission! When we get back you are going to wish you'd never been born."

"You never even told me what kind of mission it was! You didn't even let me speak! How on earth was I supposed to know? I'm not bloody psychic!"

Amy was yelling now. Paul reached over and hit her, harder.

"Stop fucking swearing. It's your job to adapt to all situations. Now get your notepad out – I don't want you to forget any of this."

"I've never forgotten anything yet, have I?"

"There's always a first time, especially with cocky little shits like you. Our objectives are to follow Tony and Eve up to Edinburgh. Once there – we are to find them and bring Tony back to the Corporation. Eve is to continue with her mission. Rose is to be left under Eve's command until such time as their operation is completed. Got that?"

"Yeah." She stopped pretending to write in her pad and drew a small, unmistakably Chinese face with her pencil. The face was smiling and had its arm around a young girl she quickly sketched by its side. A young girl with short red hair. She smiled at her artwork. The pad was full of it – all the same picture. No notes. But it always made her smile, even to draw the same picture over and over. But Paul would never get close to her unless he was trying to hurt her again. She shuddered.

"Sir, can I ask a question?"

Best be polite...

"What?"

"Why are we doing this? Why not another team, like Jennifer or Sarah?"

"Because Sarah smashed her fucking face into the fountain and killed herself and Jennifer got raped to death."

"..."

"Now shut up."

The car drove on through the night.

* * *

Sutherland sat at his desk as the sun went down. Had he made the right decision? Maybe. It was too early to tell. Looking through the hospital reports for Sarah and Mike's deaths sent chills through his spine. He flicked on the switch of his lamp and looked at his computer monitor. He was trawling through the records of his agents. Searching for any sign in his remaining staff that they might too be losing control. He felt himself beginning to lose it at any rate... He had to bring Tony home. Paul was enough of a bastard to withstand pretty much anything that could happen to him so he wasn't a worry, yet. But Eve? She seemed to be okay. But if ADAM started displaying unusual signs or if Tony got any worse she might take it pretty hard. Tony was the main concern for now. No more agents would die. He'd already lost one of his best Fratello. He didn't want to lose another. But what on earth had he just sent his elite into?

The jaws of death.


	7. The Storm Breaks

Chapter 7

The two Fratello teams sat looking up at the warehouse in front of them. The other locations that they had tried had proved fruitless. So this was the place. Inside the large, redbrick building were the bodies of an agent of the British Welfare Corporation and a young girl. And an unspecified number of terrorists. But only the adults knew that. Eve turned to Tony;

"Come on, let's get this over with."

They got out of the car. Tony walked around to the rear and opened up the trunk. Turning to ADAM and Rose, he said;

"Alright – take your weapons and get ready. Our orders are to kill everyone inside this building."

"Yes sir."

Rose took an AK47 from the trunk and loaded it. She took two more magazines and tucked them into her belt. ADAM reached across and took out an Uzi and a pair of Colt 911's. He slung the Uzi's strap over his shoulder and tucked the pistols into his belt. His blond hair stood out against the night sky and against the blackness of his clothing. Eve reached in and took out the Corporation's only OICW. A small grin spread across her features as she loaded it. Tony looked at his revolvers, and then turned to Rose.

"Rose, I want you to have this."

He span one revolver around and caught it by the barrel. He handed it to her. Rose, blushing, took the weapon gingerly and gazed at its ornate, intricate detailing along the barrel. It was an engraved rose. She looked up with joy on her face.

"Arigato, Tony-san..."

She took her old revolver out from her belt and tossed it into the trunk. Gone. This was Tony's greatest gift to her, besides his love.

Tony span the chambers around on his last weapon and shut the trunk. Eve looked at him worriedly.

"Tony, are you sure you're not going to use another gun? Just one revolver...it's not good..."

"I would never use another weapon unless I had no other choice. This gun is as much a part of me as my heart, or my hands..."

The shadow crept in again.

_So stubborn, Tony Kite. It'll get you killed._

He tried to ignore Sam's mocking tones.

"When we get in, we move together until we reach the second floor. There – we split up. We work our way up to the third floor and into the rooms where they'll be..."

Tony had almost mentioned Jennifer.

"They'll be what?" ADAM asked.

"Putting up the heaviest defence – it's probable that they would use one major room as their centre of operations."

"Okay." ADAM looked at his Uzi with a sad smile. It was such a shame to have to use such a...work of art.

The two Fratello walked up to the main door. Inside there were shadows clearly visible – the lights inside creating silhouettes on the glass. ADAM and Rose prepared to breach.

_So then, Tony Kite, how long? How long before you let yourself die? Splitting up seems risky – if it were me, I'd have stayed with Rose..._

"Shut up." He hoped that the others wouldn't hear.

_Don't worry, Tony Kite. I won't interfere. I want to watch this. I want to enjoy watching Rose die._

The laughter seemed to set his mind alight.

* * *

Paul sat down heavily on the bench. The cold night air bit at him, but he wouldn't let it show. Finally he had arrived - but he had lost them. He needed to check out the possible locations that Tony and Eve could be attacking. He'd checked most of them. But there were at least two more. By his side, Amy stood, alert. There was a warehouse on the other side of the city and one in the vicinity of the castle. 

"Sir?"

"What is it?"

If this was another stupid question...

"Well, we don't know exactly where they are. But won't the police hear the gunshots? We could follow them when they go to the site."

_Well, I'll be. She just had a bloody good idea._

"That's a bloody stupid idea. But it's better than sitting around. Lets find a police station and wait around there. When we see vans speeding out, we follow."

"Yes sir." She sighed.

The long-suffering Amy headed towards their parked car. Paul stood up, stretched and followed.

* * *

Rose thundered through the doors, her AK roaring. Two men in the corridor collapsed in heaps of blood. ADAM, to her side, pulled the trigger of his Uzi. The sound was like the rattling sound of an old typewriter. ADAM was a writer. The bullets: the typewriter's letter stamps. The blood: the ink. The dusty floor: the paper. Blood arced through the air, dancing it's ballet of death. Eve took aim and a man's head blew apart with a distinct thud. Tony raised his revolver to hip height and bent his legs slightly. If it weren't for the black suit he was wearing he would have looked for all the world like a character in a western movie. He fanned the hammer and before him his enemies fell. But this was no 60's western. There was blood. And screams from dying men. The team moved up through the corridor to the stairway. 

"Alright – this is where we split up."

Eve kept her voice quiet and Tony calmly loaded a fresh batch of shells into his antique revolver.

Rose stole away into a large room to the right on the second floor. It was tall and the grimy windows let in no light from the street lamps outside. The only light was from a single powerful bulb hanging from the ceiling. On the other side of the room ten armed, masked men in combat fatigues stood waiting for her. Many more poured in to back them up. She shot out the light.

Eve walked down the central hallway. She came to a t-junction. Movement. She kneeled. A shadow. A shape. She pulled the trigger. Blood. Her gun's cry was replied to by the rattles of the SMGs wielded by the men taking cover beyond the corner. She moved at a crouch and hugged the wall. Activating her grenade launcher she fired a single shot. The roar of the small bomb exploding could be heard even outside of the building. There was more movement of the survivors – Eve switched to the rifle component of the OICW. She fired and blew the remaining survivors apart in a fountain of gore.

Tony hurried through the shadows of the room he was in, taking cover behind pillars holding up the roof whilst the bullets from half a dozen masked terrorists thudded into them. He poked his weapon around the pillar and snapped off a pair of shots towards his enemy. The trick with revolvers was timing. The cold iron girder on the outside of the pillar dug into his back as he pressed against it. No matter. He heard the tell-tale click of a gun running dry. To his left. He edged around the pillar just enough to eyeball one man loading a fresh magazine into an MP5. Crack! The man fell backwards, his head blown apart by the bullet. His balaclava, stained red with blood, was torn up by the shot. Tony leaned back into the safety of the pillar and smiled.

_Take your time, Tony Kite. I'm going to enjoy this._

For once he agreed with Sam. Take your time. This was what he did best.

ADAM hadn't bothered with walking. He'd simply shot out a window and begun to climb up to the roof along a drainpipe. That room where Tony had said would be heavily defended... that would make a good test for him. He would make an entrance.

* * *

Someone had heard the shooting. And as the vans with armed police inside set off from the station, they were not aware of being tailed by two of the most dangerous people in the country: Paul Tong and Amy. 

"We follow these bastards and then we get in there – these police are all possible targets – we have to be prepared to kill them to accomplish our mission. Sure would be helpful to have some SMGs..."

Paul's thinly veiled insult bounced right off Amy – she was pretty much used to it by now.

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."

* * *

Tony stood facing his last opponent. One by one he had killed this mans comrades. Now was this poor fool's turn to die. The man, having emptied his SMG had a Desert Eagle draw and pointed at Tony. Sideways. 

_Ha! This should be fun, Tony Kite. The asshole thinks he's 'gangster'!_

Tony raised his revolver and aimed directly at the mans throat.

"Motherfucker!"

The man shouted and fired. The shot not only kicked his gun massively off aim, but also managed to snap the fools arm. Tony just looked at him. Pitied him. Firing a Deagle single handed was one thing, but trying to shoot whilst aiming a weapon sideways? A brick several meters to Tony's right cracked with the bullets impact.

"There's a reason we hold our guns vertically." Tony's voice was calm. "So the recoil doesn't throw off the shot. So that we can do things this."

He pulled the trigger and the mans neck burst open – his blood spurting outwards in a tsunami of claret. Tony ducked behind the pillar. Didn't want to get his suit dirty. Elsewhere in he building, the background noise of gunfire had ended.

Rose stood in the midst of the slain, blood speckles from over twenty wanted terrorists coating her jumper and face. She smiled and headed for the corridor. She wanted desperately to see Tony-san again. Her smile disappeared as unwanted thoughts crossed her mind.

_What If he's dead? Or hurt? And I wasn't there to die for him?_

She broke into a run. And ran straight into Eve, who was reloading her weapon and leaning back against the wall to catch her breath before they continued the assault.

"Eve! Where's Tony-san? Is he with you? Is he okay?"

Eve got down on one knee and ran her hand through Rose's hair – draining the blood out.

"No he's not with me." She saw the colour drain out of Rose's face. "Come on, let's go and find him."

Suddenly she was worried herself. Would he be okay?

_Please, god,_ she thought, _let him be okay._

And where the hell was ADAM?

There was the sound of shattering glass.

* * *

ADAM dropped through the skylight into a dimly lit room. There were a good few dozen heavily armed men inside. No problem. He was shooting before he hit the ground. Blood from his first kills splashed onto their comrades before they even knew what was happening. He landed directly on top of one – crushing him and causing his flesh to rupture and the innards spill outwards. He was still shooting. More deaths. He jumped and span, delivering a kick into the side of one mans head. A head which then collapsed on itself. Still shooting. More deaths. Bullets hit him – no matter – he was bullet-proof. His Uzi clicked empty and he tugged out his Colts, letting the Uzi hang from its strap at his side. He let his pistols sing their song of battle until they too emptied: their voices hoarse. Tucking them back into his belt he picked up an MP7 from the body of one of the dead men. He started shooting again. More deaths. He jumped and landed on one man, crushing him to death in the midst of his remaining colleagues. A flick and ADAM had taken a knife from a scabbard on his ankle. He started stabbing and slashing – lost in the joy of battle. 

Within thirty seconds he had taken out at least thirty of the most dangerous terrorist group in Great Britain. He stood over their leader – who was trembling with fear. ADAM reloaded his Uzi. The typewriter spoke again and Ewan McDonald; one of the most wanted men in the country, lost his head in an explosion of blood and brains.

Then he noticed Jennifer. Naked: drenched in blood. Her skin hanging off in bloodied lumps. Her eyes – gone. The flesh around them - burnt. Her hair – torn out. ADAM collapsed to his knees. He could feel something happening on the inside of his body. His conditioning told him to suppress the emotion. But he couldn't. He reached up and felt his tears. Hot and thick. Blood. He was crying blood. The raw emotion was churning him up insides. He couldn't help himself as his emotions overrode his conditioning. Those...bastards. The corporation had done this to her...to him... He wanted...revenge. The Elsa Factor had come into play.

* * *

Tony saw Rose ahead of him as he left the room he had cleared and ran towards her, dropping to his knees and kissing her forehead. He tasted blood, but it wasn't hers. That's what counted, all that mattered. Upstairs he heard the sound of gunfire. But it seemed distant. Then silence. 

"Rose...how did you do?"

"I killed at least twenty, I think. Did I do well?"

He took her head and buried it into his shoulder, kissing her hair. That told her all she needed to know. She had done perfectly, once again.

"Where's Eve?"

"She was..." Rose looked around, but noticed Eve was not with her; "She was here..."

"Eve?"

Tony stood up and looked around.

_Dead. Dead. Dead._

"I'm here."

_Well maybe not. _

Eve walked up to them in the corridor: her OICW slung by her hip.

"Tony?" she asked, sounding concerned.

"Yeah?"

"I went looking for ADAM; do you know where he is?"

She was answered by the rattling sound of an old typewriter.


	8. Betrayal and Revenge

_Notes: I have absolutely no idea if there is a motorway or a chemical works (or a warehouse like this one) in Edinburgh or its vicinity. But if there isn't let's just call it artistic license, eh?_

_Another Disclaimer: I still don't own Gunslinger Girl, but I do own every character that's appeared in the story so far._

_

* * *

_

Chapter 8

The bullets caught Eve in the side and she span in the air, her blood shooting outwards. Her smart shirt had holes ripped into it by the bullets. It had gone from brilliant white to crimson red in an instant. She crumpled to the floor with a wet thump. Dead before she hit the ground.

"Rose, get in cover!"

Tony dived behind a stack of crates and more red hot pieces of lead smashed through the wooden boxes just over his head. He hurriedly tried to reload his Peacemaker, but his fingers were fumbling. Eve was dead. No way she could have survived that kind of damage. Her stomach must have been torn to pieces by the shots and the erratic way she moved when she fell – no consciousness...

"Tony-san! Where are you?"

"Rose, just get behind cover and stay there."

More bullets thudded into the crates above Tony's head. He finished reloading his weapon. He saw a brief glimpse of Rose firing at the stairway before another spray of bullets forced her to duck. There was a clicking sound as the assailant's gun emptied. Tony and Rose – as one - moved out of their cover and fired at the shadow moving about on the stairs. Tony's shots found their mark and the target...shuddered. That was it. A slight shake when the bullets impacted. Their foe moved out of the darkness and into the light and the first thing Tony noticed was the blond hair. As soon as he realised that this was ADAM he was fighting, Tony stopped thinking altogether. Run. That was the only word that existed in his head. Run. Get Rose out of ADAM's path.

_HAHA! Tony Kite, what a situation you're in! Keep it up; I'm loving every second of it!_

Tony and Rose crouched down near the doorway and reloaded their weapons. They heard footsteps coming closer. There was a shuffling sound. A body being dragged. Then a cold voice rang out into the darkness.

"You betrayed us. You betrayed me. You did this to me. And you have died because of me."

There was the sound of a pistol shot. Just once. Then the noise of a body hitting the ground with a thump. ADAM had just cast Eve's corpse across the room. The body had landed not far from Tony and Rose's hiding place. Tony saw her face.

Her eyes were wide open in an expression of surprise. Two hazel orbs: glazed over and staring. But very little blood had came out from her head wound besides what had splashed out from the bullet's impact. Her heart had been still for several seconds before she had been picked up and shot again. Her heart was at peace. She no longer had to worry about anything. Not the mission, not her life, not Tony Kite – nothing.

"You know that I know where you are..."

ADAM's voice rang out again. Then the pistol was fired again and bullets slammed into the ground just inches away from Tony.

"Rose. We're going."

Tony raised his revolver and fired behind his back at ADAM as he picked Rose up in his left arm and started to run. More shots. One grazed his right calf, he almost stumbled but he leaned to his left and charged down the corridor. Rose was shooting behind him as he ran. Just a waste of ammo.

Downstairs was the din of police sirens wailing and then a shattering sound as every glass window in the building exploded inwards. As the shards of glass flew they took with them several armed and armoured police officers who were clutching ropes and SMGs. There was the rattling sound again and several bodies hit the floor. Tony saw a officer, his face covered by a balaclava, standing on the stairway to the ground floor. Blocking his escape. Tony didn't hesitate, he blew the man's head apart in a spray of gore.

* * *

Paul and Amy hurried out of their car. The police were already assaulting the building. But Paul's orders were more important than the police. The law was expendable. 

"Right, these bastards are going in hard. We need to go in harder, got it?"

"Yes sir!"

Amy ran, her head down and her smart suit completely out of place in this apparent battleground. A police officer turned to her as several helicopters thundered overhead. He waved with his left hand, his H&K MP5 held in his right hand.

"Little girl! Get back! Now!"

Amy snapped his arm and took the MP5 in her hands. A swift kick and his face caved in. She took aim and started shooting at the other police officers besieging the building. Paul hefted the Remington and hurried to where Amy had swiftly despatched another five heavily armed police in showers of blood. He raised his shotgun and fired at an officer taking cover from Amy behind a car, the man span through the air before landing on the ground, a large chunk of his abdomen missing. He moved to the doorway.

"Amy, get over here!"

"Sir!"

She swiftly took out the remaining few police officers outside the building and ran towards Paul, her two MP5's spitting at the helicopters above. There was an almighty crash as one of the metal beasts thundered into another. There was a flash which lit up the night sky and then a roar as the two helicopters exploded into flames and crashed through the roof of the warehouse.

"Fuck. That was bloody good..."

"You approve, sir?"

"Hell yeah – keep this up and I might go easy on you for forgetting those SMGs."

He showed a rare smile. Amy's face was lit up like a beacon with happiness.

"Thank you, sir."

"But first we've got to find Tony and Eve. Come on."

He backed away from the door and pumped his shotgun. Then there was the sudden sound of smashing glass and two people Paul recognized dived out of a window to his right.

"Morning Tony."

Tony looked up, his face cut from the shattered glass. Joking at a time like this? Of course. Paul had no idea of the situation...

"Paul. Run."

"Why?"

With a crash part of the wall above them on the second floor burst outwards in a shower of red brick. Two armed police officers flew out of the hole, trails of blood following them in their wake.

Then there was silence. And as Tony held Rose tight to him he looked at Paul and saw something he had never seen before in his eyes. Fear.

"Paul. Eve's...dead."

Tony was struggling to speak with his pain and the dust coating Rose from the warehouse had made her almost as white as him. She looked at Amy with a terrified face. Amy looked back with hers.

"Sir?" Amy's voice was quiet. "What are you orders?"

A dark shape smashed into the concrete paving between the two teams of Fratello. For a second it simply crouched in the small crater it had created for itself. Then it rose to it's full height and faced Paul and Amy. ADAM's blond hair reflected the orange light from the streetlamps around the warehouses.

"Tony. Take Rose and go. I'll deal with this."

"Sir?"

Amy looked at Paul with a horrified look. This wasn't the ADAM she recognized. This boy had a black look about his eyes, and he was covered in bullet holes and scratches. Even across his face, which was now heavily wounded and dripping red. How could she possible hope to fight this machine? ADAM dropped both of his arms to his sides and turned his hands outwards so that she could clearly see the two MP5s in his grasp. He cast his head back and looked at the sky, a smile forming on his blood stained face.

"Tony go. We have orders to secure your safety at all costs. You're to report to the Chief."

Always serving the mission. The fear in Paul's eyes had vanished. Amy stepped forward.

Tony turned to run, taking Rose's hand in his he took one of the police cars sitting empty with the bodies of the dead scattered around them.

_Oh isn't this absolutely fucking delightful? It's just too...MOTHERFUCKING HILARIOUS TO WATCH!_

Tony tried to ignore Sam's voice as he started the car. But his voice was getting louder. As was his insane laughing. He pulled out into the street and turned to see Amy and Paul raising their weapons towards ADAM. He started to drive. Fast. Rose stared out of the passenger seat at the face-off.

As he span around the corner and disappeared from sight he heard the gunfire begin afresh.

"Amy, remember I told you I might go easy on you when we get back?"

"Yes sir."

"Do this well and I'll forget about the SMGs."

"Thank you sir."

ADAM looked at them, smiling.

"Finished?" he said: a sardonic tone in his voice.

Amy stood in front of Paul. And dropped her guns. She raised her fists. She had always preferred fighting hand to hand.

"Afraid to fight me without your guns? I thought you were supposed to be the best?"

"My apologies." ADAM dropped his weapons to the floor.

_What do I do? What can I do?_

"Sir?" She asked; "What exactly do you have planned?"

"Just fight him for now – keep him occupied."

ADAM stopped smiling and said;

"You do, of course, realise that no matter where you go I can find you?"

He had been designed with a tracking device to allow him to seek out other Cyborgs. It had been intended for use with large scale operations...But now it was going to be used to hunt down and destroy the girls of the British Welfare Corporation.

"Amy, just do me a favour and punch the little shit for me, will you?"

Enough small talk. Enough taunts. Enough jokes. Amy threw her right hand forwards, her fist curled tight. ADAM grabbed the fist out of the air, span and kicked Amy in the ribs. She flew backwards and impacted with the wall. Paul watched in horror. How could they defeat this...creature? Tony had driven off. Safe. At least that gave Paul more options.

"Okay, Amy. Plan B. Shoot him in the head and let's get to our car."

ADAM moved first and had his MP5s off the ground before Amy could process the instruction. But not before Paul had shouldered his Remington.

Blam!

Ch-chk.

Blam!

Ch-chk.

Blam!

Ch-chk.

No affect. ADAM's front was torn and blood splattered, and there was the glint of a deep blue metal in the ruins of his chest. He staggered backwards a few feet and stopped moving. He looked back at his enemies. Amy rolled along the ground and took her SMGs from the floor. Crouching, she thrust her weapons under ADAM's chin and fired point blank. The power took him off his feet and he landed on the body of a police officer. More sirens had filled the air and there was the distant sound of a helicopter. The flames from the wrecks on the top of building suddenly surged upwards with the wind, casting fiery light across the warehouses around it.

Paul signalled to Amy and together they ran for their car on the other side of the road from the warehouse. A spray of bullets followed them, several hitting Amy in the back, splashing her white suit with blood. Paul turned and raised his shotgun again as Amy got into the back seat of the car.

Blam!

Ch-chk.

No effect. Goddamn it this kid was immortal! He got in the car and didn't bother to close the door as he drove off – Amy firing out of the window towards ADAM, who had taken up the chase on foot.

"Shoot him!" Paul's voice was showing signs of panic.

"I am trying, you know!"

The MP5s carried by ADAM spoke again and more shots smashed into the car. Paul was already pushing the vehicle to it's limit, but ADAM was right behind them. Running.

"Shit, he's fast! Do something!"

"Like what?"

"Grenade!"

"I didn't bring any!"

"Stupid, stupid bitch!"

"Sorry!"

Several Police cars joined the chase. Paul made for the motorway.

"What now, sir?" Amy looked at the cars behind ADAM but turned away, the flashing of their lights and the wailing of their sirens made her head hurt.

"Well...the kid's invulnerable to our bullets...so I don't know. We'll improvise!"

Paul was not enjoying this one bit. He always liked to have a plan to follow.

"Well...what about the chemical plant away from the city? They might have something we could use!"

_This girl is getting smarter by the second. Maybe this whole trip hadn't been a waste after all._

"How on earth do you come up with these? How the hell do you remember the friggin' chemical plant, for Christ's sake?"

"I saw it on the way up."

More near misses from ADAM's bullets. Amy ducked under the spray of lead. The chase went on.

They moved onto the motorway. One of the police cars came too close to ADAM for his comfort. They were too much of a hassle now. ADAM somersaulted backwards and landed with a crunch on the roof of the car. He stood and aimed his guns at the cars behind his. He fired. Cars span wildly out of control, smashing into one another and onto the sides of the motorway. There were flames as their petrol tanks leaked and sparked as the cars were dragged along and smashed into each other at 120kmph. There was an explosion. At least a dozen police cars completely incinerated and destroyed. The car he was riding began to swerve insanely. ADAM saw a van marked "Armed Response" driving up the slip way, smashing aside the burning wrecks. The van sped in front of the car he was on and the rear doors opened to reveal a squad of armed police aiming M16's at him. A loud crackling noise. The bullets thudded into him, but to no avail. Just the peeling off of a bit more false skin and the spilling of more false blood. ADAM jumped once and smashed the bonnet of the car he was riding with his impact, taking it out of the chase completely. Another jump and he was in the air above the van. Time itself seemed to slow as his heightened senses kicked in. He brought a fist down onto the very rear of the van's floor with immense strength. The van flipped upwards. Everything seemed to go silent. It began to soar through the air and rotate as ADAM hit the ground. Another leap, forwards this time, and ADAM span in the air. He reached for the Uzi by his side. There was the rattling of a typewriter in the silence and the van's petrol tank burst. Then the sparks of the bullets ignited it. The van blew up before it hit the ground. ADAM skidded along the floor, the friction tearing his shirt and strips of flesh off his back and leaving a trail of hot blood behind him.

ADAM stood up and closed his eyes. The only sound was the crackling of flames. He breathed in deeply and found what he wanted. A signal from a Cyborg. He needed only to follow the signal to find the next target for his revenge. He looked at the burning wreckage behind him and smiled at the carnage he had wrought.

Stronger. Faster. Better.


	9. Tears

_#sob# this is going to be my last chapter for a month or two as I've got exams coming up... but then I have a whole two months before college starts so I'll be able to finish this then. Oh well. This is my longest chapter yet. Enjoy!_

_

* * *

_

Chapter 9

Tony Kite drove hard and fast through the night streets on Edinburgh. There was no chance of him being stopped by the police – the flames and distant, echoing crackles of gunfire told him that. In the back seat sat Rose: her eyes closed but her hands tightly clenching the revolver to her chest.

"Tony-san, what just happened to us?"

Tony breathed out hard and began to slow down. Elsewhere there was a distant thud and a bright light lit up the night sky from the horizon. An explosion of some sort. Maybe that meant this nightmare had ended.

"I'm sorry Rose, I can't answer that. I don't know."

"Why did ADAM try to hurt you?" No thoughts for her-self – Tony bit his lip in frustration at this. This was the conditioning speaking again. "Why did he kill Eve? Didn't he love her?"

"No Rose. I don't think he did. I think he must have seen something."

He didn't dare mention Jennifer or Thomas.

"What kind of something?"

"Something he didn't like."

"Okay."

Just okay. That was all Rose needed. Once again the conditioning was speaking for her. At least this time it might be helping...

"Rose, we need to visit the Edinburgh safe-house."

"Yes. Will it be safe?"

"Not particularly, but I can't drive in this condition. Or fight. We need to rest, to gather our strength. To contact HQ." The pain from his wounds and the lack of sleep was torturing him – something which Sam seemed to find most amusing.

_Run Tony Kite! Get out of the city or you'll be killed! I bet those other two are already dead! You're next, Tony Kite! Run! _

That godforsaken laughter...

"Tony-san? What if he comes there?"

"It will be defended, don't worry. And even ADAM can't fight continuously. We'll be okay until morning – we jut have to trust that Paul and Amy are still alive..."

* * *

Paul and Amy were still alive. For now at least. 

Paul pulled into the chemical works and headed straight for the security gate. They got out of the car.

"Hey! Hey! You! Yeah you! Mr Security! Which of these buildings has the most burning, horrific, melting chemicals in it?"

Paul was pointing at the slightly bemused security guard with his finger and

Amy sighed. Always so to the point. It was one of her brother's qualities. Suddenly she winced at the pain of her back wounds but she didn't mind - it would go away soon. It always went away eventually.

"I'm sorry sir; I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"Bog off. See this?" Paul took out his ID. "BWC. Answer me. Now"

"Isn't that a civilian corporation? You have no authority."

"Okay then. How about this?"

Paul reached into the car and retrieved the Remington. He pointed it straight at the terrified security officer.

"This proof that we aren't civilians, Mr Authority?"

"That'll do." The man stepped backwards and almost tripped over his chair in fear.

"Good. We need something strong. Something nasty. We've got a bastard to kill, you see."

"Our strongest substance is in building C."

"Thank you for doing your job. I'll speak to your superiors."

He didn't even bother to wait for a reply before they got back in the car.

_Well that's one way he can get results..._ Amy smiled quietly to herself, admiring her brother's 'persuasive' skills. The car drove off in the direction of building C.

"What are you smiling about, missy?" Paul was his usual pleasant self to her again.

"Nothing."

"It doesn't look like nothing. Here we are in this wonderful situation with the Eleven Year Old From Hell breathing down our necks and you're smiling merrily to the freakin' fairies!"

"Sorry sir."

She tried to frown, but despite her wounds couldn't quite make it. Her brother was a wonderful person really, she thought to herself... She burst out in a fit of giggles.

"I said shut it!"

"When?"

"Just then!"

"Okay."

She bit her hand to stifle the laughter that was rising in her despite her situation. The car stopped. To the front of them was a circular building with a domed roof and black tinted windows. No vision inwards, but plenty of vision outwards. She patted her MSG90A1 with the hand not buried inside her mouth. She knew she'd made a good decision to bring a sniper rifle.

"Here we go. Building C. Let's get those night workers out of the building and we can set up our trap."

"Yes sir."

* * *

Tony pulled up the car at the safe-house. In happier times this had been used by Fratello on trips out. He remembered Mike and Sarah after they came back from the city saying how wonderful it was to be within walking distance of the castle. What he wouldn't give to have another Fratello up here too. Paul and Amy were good, but he doubted whether they could defeat ADAM alone. If Tony had strict orders to return to HQ then surely Sutherland would have sent another team. Why hadn't he sent Mike? Tony was too tired to dwell on the subject much more. He needed rest, so did Rose. They would head home tomorrow, ADAM be dammed. 

"Rose, come on."

They stood by the car for a second. They would have made a terrible sight to any passers by... Bloody, torn, wounded, and covered in dust and cuts – they looked like they had just escaped from a war-zone. Which, of course, they pretty much had. But there were no passers by this late at night. Only a distant roaring sound of a fire from outside the city. They looked at the small apartment building in front of them. They were on the ground floor. Tony stepped up to the black wooden door.

Tony took his key ring out and flicked through to the black handled key. A master key to all Corporation safe-houses. He smiled as he unlocked the door.

"Come on, Rose." He held the door open as the young girl walked into the dark house. Stepping in behind her, he flicked on the lights and shut the door behind him. Then a voice rang out down the corridor.

"Who's there?"

A man wearing a blue dressing-gown was pointing a silenced pistol at two dim shapes by the doorway. He was squinting in the harsh light. Just woke up. Tony smiled and stepped forward, his arms open.

"Don't shoot, I'm with the Corporation."

"Huh?" The man raised a hand to shield his eyes. "Hey, you...you're Tony Kite aren't you?"

"I am."

"My name is James Monroe. I'm the Keeper of this building."

"I'd kinda figured that."

Each safe-house had a permanent Keeper. Someone who made the building look lived in, and to tell any inquirers that the building was full if they wanted accommodation.

"Who's this?"

"Rose, say hello."

She stepped forwards and held out her hand.

"Hello, Mr Monroe. My name is Rose."

Then James Monroe saw the blood and the dust. The cuts and the bruises.

"My God. What happened to you two?"

Tony looked at him seriously.

"We were on operations in this city."

"Yes I was informed. I thought it was a simple job. No need to worry. Especially not for Tony Kite! But apparently not..."

_Why does he seem so awed by Tony-san?_ Rose looked at her handler quizzically.

"There were unexpected complications. One of my closest friends was killed by her Cyborg."

"Oh good lord..."

"He's pursued some of my other colleagues out of the city, but he will be back tomorrow. We have to leave early."

"We should leave now."

"Out of the question. Rose and I are in no condition to travel, and anyway – I think the motorway may be out of order."

Tony motioned to the window where there was an orange glow coming from the direction of the motorway."

"Well...can we not fight the Cyborg tomorrow?"

"He's a new model. The Alpha Male Program."

The mention of The Program going wrong made Monroe's face contort with horror. The Program's Subject was supposed to be invincible...

"So then...you need to rest. I've got a room. You might want to shower you know. You look really bad, Tony Kite."

* * *

"And then you turn around and leave. That's right. No, don't power it down you idiot. We need that on. Yes. That's good. Well done. And now run. Yes, RUN. Fast. Because if you don't then you're going to get shot by an eleven year old boy. Oh and tell your boss that the security guard's an idiot!" 

Paul was pointing his shotgun towards the few terrified men unfortunate enough to be working through the night in Building C. They turned and began to run. Paul grinned.

"Bye, girls! Well that was fun. Let's get above this thing, then."

He indicated the large cylindrical vat next to him. Amy just beamed broadly and followed him up the metal walkways towards the top of the building.

"And, Amy?"

"Yeah?"

"Stop bloody smiling."

"I'll try."

"I mean it. Don't make me hit you."

"Sorry, sir."

Amy sighed and heaved the large duffle bag full of her weapons up the steps to the top. She glanced at her watch. 2:30 AM. Christ it was late for her to be sniping. What about her beauty sleep?

Amy dropped the weapons bag by a large window on the top floor and kicked the glass out of the window. She sat down and crossed her legs, her tongue sticking out as she set up the rifle and its bipod. Paul leaned over the railings and peered into the vat of liquid beneath him. A strange, unearthly orange colour and bubbling heavily. Amy glanced across at him.

"Sir, get away from the Tango. I don't know what it'll do to you."

"It'll get me away from you inane prattling, that's for sure."

He kicked the small of her back. Not hard, but hard enough to leave a bruise to remember it by.

"Sorry, sir."

"Now concentrate on your job. Can you see him?"

"Not yet sir."

"He'll come. He'll come."

* * *

Tony dressed and sat down heavily in a chair in the small room. So tired. His shower had hurt him more than he'd have thought it would. But his wounds weren't serious. Grazes, cuts, bruises mainly. The most serious wound was a small wound on his right leg where ADAM's bullet had clipped him. Nothing serious. He looked at Rose, asleep in the bed on the other side of the room. She'd not even been hurt in the fighting. Just by the smashing, shattered glass. _Still_, he thought, _she's washed the blood off. She looks just like a normal girl there... _And she did. He always brought her travel bag whenever they went out on operations. Just in case. Just for times like this. 

He thought about how Monroe had reacted to him. True, he had a history in the Corporation. But so had Rose. For two years he and Rose had travelled together. Fought together. Killed together. But even before he met Rose, when he had been with Samantha, he had still achieved some element of infamy within the Corporation. He had been the best. The very best. Long ago, it seemed. But now, was the best outdated? Like his guns? To be passed around as an awed relic?

_Of course you are, Tony Kite._

"Not now. I'm trying to rest."

_I know you are. Rest then, Tony Kite. Rest. Let your guard down._

"This building is defended."

He heard shuffling below. Crates of weapons being prepared by Monroe in preparation for the journey back. A loud voice. Phone calls to contacts, HQ and the other safe-houses. Preparation.

_Ooh it's a bit tense, isn't it? It's like a war has started! _

"It has, in a way. ADAM's going to be hard to stop."

_Yes. I know he is. Let me help, Tony Kite._

"You don't want to help me."

_On the contrary. My actions have always been with your best interests at heart. Would you not be finding this whole situation easier if not for Rose? Would you not be happier? Her death would eventually ease your pain. I have watched and guided your hand now for these past two years. Without me, Tony Kite, you would be dead._

"Maybe I should be."

_No. Without you, I would cease to exist. I want you to live, Tony Kite. At least for now._

Tony's eyes closed.

* * *

"Sir? He's here." 

Amy's voice was a whisper.

"Take him."

The gun fired with a silenced 'pop' and ADAM shook slightly. Then looked up at the smashed window of Building C. A man in a security uniform ran out to meet the boy, completely unaware of his nature. As he got closer he noticed the boy's blood. Amy flinched as there was a rattling sound and the man flew backwards in a spray of his own blood.

ADAM looked up at Building C. Revenge. He would take it tonight! He smiled as he walked into the darkness and vanished from view.

"Where did he go? Amy?"

"I don't know, sir. He stepped into the shadows."

"Goddamn it, stupid girl. He has to come out sometime. Lure him up here when you see him."

"I will."

* * *

Tony opened his eyes to see an empty bed in the room in front of him. Outside a brilliant sun shone through the windows. He stood and headed for the doorway to the main room of the apartment. 

"Rose?"

He saw her. Oh god how he saw her. Sat down on a small wooden chair in the centre of the room. A single dagger, its handle intricately carved with the figure of a dragon and embedded with rubies, was stabbed into her chest. The blood was drenching the entire floor around the chair. She looked at him, tears filling her eyes.

"Tony-san..."

The bullet blew her head apart in a spray of gore. Tony saw a man stood in the doorway. A man who was busy holstering a Desert Eagle. He wore a dark red leather trenchcoat, a red waistcoat below it, with a red tie. His trousers and smart shoes were also red. On his well formed, handsome face he wore a small pair of dark red round sunglasses. His short hair was spiky and brilliantly white. As white as the shirt below his waistcoat. The stranger looked at Tony with a grin. He spoke.

"Well met, Tony Kite."

Tony felt his heart stop for an instant. The voice was smooth yet deadly, like silk edged with iron. Worse, it was a voice that Tony recognized.

"That's impossible..."

"Apparently not, Tony Kite!"

"This isn't happening!"

"'Fraid so!"

"I'm dreaming."

"'Fraid not!"

"YOU DON'T EVEN EXIST!"

"That's hardly a way to greet your old pal Sam, now is it?"

Tony turned to run but felt a crushing blow on the side of his head. He went clean through the wall in a spray of dust and splinters. Sam had moved from one side of the room and hit him with such speed...such strength...

"Don't worry, Tony Kite. This isn't the end." Sam stepped through the hole Tony had made in the wall. "This, Tony Kite, is your mind. I'm just here to say hello!"

Tony grimaced in pain and felt a warm liquid trickling down the side of his throbbing head.

"Leave me. Leave me in my own bloody mind and don't come back!"

"That's hardly a position to make demands from, is it?"

"Go. Stop this!"

A sadistic grin crossed Sam's face. Only then did Tony realise how similar they both looked. Like brothers...

"Wake up, Tony Kite."

His eyes snapped open.

They weren't his own. He saw himself rise from the seat and walk over to Rose. Saw his own hands reach out and remove the blankets over the bed.

_What are you doing? Stop!_

"I'm having a bit of fun, Tony Kite."

_No!_

"Are you trying to tell me you don't want this?"

_Of course I don't bloody want this! I love her!_

"A man of many moral faces you are, Tony Kite."

_Stop._

"No."

Sam's hands caressed Rose's cheek. She was fast asleep. He was going to rape her. And all Tony could do was watch and scream. Trapped within the confines of his own mind. Trapped within the confines of his own...beautiful insanity.

* * *

Paul breathed out heavily. Where the hell was this kid? 

"Sir?"

"Yeah?"

"He's not coming up is he?"

"He'll come. We can out wait him. Whatever reason he's got for doing this, it's a driving force. He can't sit us out."

"Yes, sir."

A shadow. Amy fired. Nothing.

_Damn it! He's moving though. But where? _

She sat and observed the darkness, wishing she'd brought a night scope. Paul rested his shotgun over his shoulder and frowned. They waited for another few minutes.

Then there was a rattling sound like that of an old typewriter.

Paul fell backwards from the blasts: his abdomen bleeding from the bullet wounds. He hit the wall and stopped moving.

"Sir!"

Amy spun quickly and fired her rifle - catching ADAM in the right eye. There was a spray of blood but he kept standing. Such a shot would have killed a normal Cyborg. But ADAM was far from normal. He gazed back, his eyeball destroyed, and a vicious red pinprick of light in its place. It was an intense light, blazing furiously.

_How did he get here so silently? How did he survive that shot? What the hell can I do?_

She threw the rifle at ADAM. He caught it and snapped it over his knee.

_That was a mistake._

ADAM threw a punch with his right hand, catching her jaw. It broke. He reached down with his left and took hold of her lower jaw. She bit down, but he either didn't feel pain or ignored it. He tore backwards, tearing her lower jaw clean off. Her tongue was ripped out with it and blood sprayed down the front of her white suit. Then:

Blam!

Ch-chk.

Paul stood and faced ADAM, his gun raised and he was seemingly oblivious to the pain in his abdomen.

Blam!

Ch-chk.

The shot tore off the right side of ADAM's face, exposing the blue metal skull beneath. ADAM was sent backwards, but grasped the railings of the walkway before he could fall.

Blam!

Ch-chk.

ADAM toppled over the edge with a yell.

* * *

"NO!" 

Tony regained control with a sudden jerk.

_No? Well... you certainly have a stronger mind than I though, Tony Kite. But what I don't understand is...you love her. Why not?_

"Because I love her. I honour and respect her. I would not do...that."

_Very well. For now, Tony Kite, you win. But I'll be watching. I think I'm going to enjoy this next twenty-four hours._

Silence. Peace. Tony covered Rose back up. He looked around and his eyes settled on a piece of paper and a pen lying on the table by the bedside. He looked at it for a moment. Then he made up his mind. This was too dangerous for Rose. He had only one choice.

He finished writing and folded the paper in half. He wrote 'Rose' on it and placed it on the foot of her bed. He turned out the lamp. No movement elsewhere in the building – Monroe was asleep. That was good. He walked over to Rose's sleeping form and kissed her cheek. He took his revolver from the table next to her.

"Goodnight Rose. Sleep well."

He walked out of the room and towards the apartment door, tears welling up in his eyes. He opened the door and the lights from the hallway turned him into a silhouette. But the shadow cast onto the floor looked completely different to Tony's silhouette. Tony had a black suit on. But the shadow seemed to have a floor length coat. Maybe it was just a trick of the light.

"Think happy thoughts."

Tony left the room and shut the door behind him.

Gone.

* * *

Paul peered over the edge. 

_Goddamn it!_

ADAM had missed the chemicals. He had landed instead on a walkway half-way down. Paul turned to look at Amy. She was a pitiful sight: blood drenched, and missing her jawbone and tongue. She looked at him with eyes that said;

_"Help me."_

Paul smashed his gun across her face.

"IDIOT GIRL! You're pathetic! You're supposed to watch for him and lure him into a trap. You fail. You then let him gun me down. Then you try and fight him and wonder why you lose. You look a mess. You always have done. A waste of space."

He brought his gun down again. She caught it with her hand. Enough. She'd had enough. She stood up and looked at him with eyes that now said;

_"I'm sorry. I love you, but I'm sorry."_

For the second time that night, The Elsa Factor had come into play.

She pushed with all her remaining strength and sent Paul toppling over the railings. Straight into the chemical vat. The orange liquid seemed to do nothing at first. Then he began to scream. He burst into flame as the chemical heat ate away at his clothes, then his skin, then his flesh, then his organs. A burning, blackened skeleton was all that remained within seconds of him hitting the liquid. It was all that remained to sink beneath the surface. Amy dropped to her knees, the pain in both her body and soul now overwhelming. She took her note pad out of her pocket and leafed through it, gazing at the pictures with eyes that said;

_"Kill me."_

There were footsteps behind her. She turned and saw ADAM. He looked sad.

"You aren't my enemy, Amy. I'm sorry."

She clenched the pictures to her, tightly.

"Do you...want to join him in death?"

She nodded, sending blood from what remained of her jaw over her art. ADAM looked at the pictures in her arms sadly.

"Very well. I apologise, Amy. I wish this weren't so."

She stood tall. He levelled the Uzi at her face. She stared into the barrel unflinchingly. She murmured something, but the look in her eyes was all she needed to express herself. A look that said;

_"Thank you."_

"Goodbye, Amy."

The Uzi spoke her last rites. She toppled backwards into the chemicals. But, mercifully, she was dead before they began to eat her away.

"I'm sorry."

ADAM turned and walked slowly out of Building C – taking the pistols from the duffle bag with him. Two USP Elites. And plenty of ammo. The rain had begun again. As he left, he cast a single glance back at Building C. There may have been tears in his remaining eye. Or it could have been the raindrops.

* * *

Rose awoke. Crying. Nothing special about that. She always cried when she woke up. So to did all the girls of the British Welfare Corporation, or so they said. It must be the conditioning... 

Where was Tony-san? Not here. Maybe he was with Mr Monroe. Mr Monroe seemed to know him, anyway. Then she saw a folded slip of paper at the foot of the bed. On it was written a single word. 'Rose'. She shuffled over to it, her heart in her mouth as she began to guess the letter's content.

"_Rose, this is goodbye. I can no longer stay by your side. It's too dangerous for you. If what I suspect is true, ADAM isn't trying to hurt you. He wants me. So he can have me. Rose. I want you to be a big girl for me. Don't cry. Please don't cry. Don't come after me. If I ever see you again,

* * *

then it will mean that this is over. Everything. But that day may never come. Travel south with James Monroe. To the Blackpool safe-house. Tell Mr Monroe to contact every safe-house and to gather all the operatives together at the HQ. I left something, many years ago, at Blackpool. It's yours now. The Keeper there will be able to help you. Goodbye, my love. I will love you forever. Be happy."_

Rose sat in her pyjamas just looking at the letter. Her pupils dilated. She stood up and walked out of the safe-house without Mr Monroe noticing. The world was a dull blue and sheets of rain fell in the dawn light. She started to run towards the highest point she could see. The castle. She ran: the stones and glass on the streets cutting her feet. The grit got between her toes. But she carried on running. Her pyjamas stuck to her wet body in the rain. She ran up the stairways to the top of the castle walls, overlooking the city. She screamed. So loudly that she thought her lungs would burst with the effort.

"TONY-SAN, I LOVE YOU!"

No answer.

One of the soldiers at the castle turned to look at her, drawn by the sound. She dropped to her knees onto the cold, wet stone as the raindrops bounced off the ground around her. She curled up on her side in the foetal position, her legs drawn up to her chest. So cold. So wet. But it didn't matter as she began to sob.

"Tony-san...where are you?"

But there was no answer. No hug. No soft kiss on the forehead. No tender arms around her. No warm, gentle hand to hold. For the first time since she could remember...she was alone. For the first time since she could remember...there was nothing.

* * *

_Ah well - I'll update this when I've left school in a month or so. Until then - please, a penny for your thoughts? A review would be very much appreciated._


	10. A Morning of Mourning

Chapter 10

Opening her eyes, there was a brilliant, blinding light above her. She quickly shut them again, squeezing them tight so that the eyelids crinkled and patterns of swirling colours played in the blackness. Was she dead? No. Not dead. She used her ears. Rattling noises. The tink-tink-clatter of rain against glass, but not against her body. She was inside? She must have fainted, or blacked out. Why? Muffled voices muttered all around her.

"_...do with her..."_

"_...reported missing girl?"_

"_Nothing yet."_

"_What happened, soldier?"_

Soldier? Her hearing became more focused as her head seemed to 'click' into shape and begin to work. Soldiers... The castle was still an active military base. The castle?

_Am I in a castle? Is Tony-san here? Why am I thinking of a castle?_

"...Tony-san..." the words were little more than a whisper.

No one heard her. She felt a sudden, inexplicable dread well up inside of her. Questions. What was hidden in her head? What couldn't she reach within her memories? What had happened? Why could her mind not tell her? More importantly, why could Tony-san not tell her?

"_Goodbye, my love. I will love you forever, think happy thoughts." What was that? A poem? A line from a film or a story that Tony-san told me? I think Tony-san must have told it to me. _

Then she remembered. The letter. ADAM. The fear. The safe-house. Tony-san...

Her scream of realisation would be heard by all. Her eyes ripped open and she shot bolt upright on the hospital trolley.

"TONY-SAN!"

Why? Why couldn't that blissful blockage in her memory stay? Why couldn't it just let her lie for just a short while in peace? _Because_, she told herself, _Tony-san gave me a job to do._

"She's awake."

"Finally!"

A man with short, fiery orange hair and black, rectangular glasses over to her from the other side of the room. He was clean shaven and his blue eyes were magnified by both his glasses and Rose's resurfaced tears. A white coat hung off his back, over a smart suit. Behind him, a woman with neat blonde hair and the same white coat motioned to a young man in military fatigues to leave the room before she came over to the trolley. The man gently tried to ease rose back into a lying-down position, but she remained upright as she tried to think.

"_Travel south..."_

_I have to get out of this room._

"Hello, little girl." The man seemed nice enough... "My name is Doctor Stewart and this..."

He never got a chance to finish as Rose's right fist smashed across her body into his jaw, smashing it into fragments. He fell sideways with a spurt of blood from his mouth as Rose's right leg thrust out and caught the lady doctor in the throat. The woman's chin shot downwards with the force of the blow and she was doubling up in mid air as she thundered backwards into the wall. She landed onto the ground in a sitting position, resting her shattered, broken frame on the cracked wall. Rose landed in the centre of the room – all it had taken to seriously injure two adults and propel herself into the centre of the room, ready to face all comers, was a single movement lasting less than five seconds.

She looked around herself at the room. There was a large window to her left, the glass dirty and grime-encrusted. But she could hear the rain beating it's endless beat onto it. The white tiled floor was dusty and chipped with age. The walls were undecorated, save for a foul turquoise paint covering. The trolley which she had led on was draped in loose, untidy sheets and next to it the doctor with the glasses led, groaning. A spurt of a dark red fluid crossed floor and started to run up the wall from his mouth. There were pieces of equipment sitting dead in the corner – as though afraid to move in case this child would look badly upon them and shatter them. Too afraid to even make a gentle 'beep'. Rose turned to the wooden doors and noticed the badly hurt lady doctor sitting next to them, a gentle trickle of blood dribbling from her mouth. She had bit her tongue. The door slammed open and the young soldier who had left the room earlier raged into the room, a yell on his tongue. Rose smashed her foot into his knee, snapping his leg like a twig and he fell, just drawing his pistol. She raised he knee upwards to meet his face and his head shot backwards – now in a foul angle compared to his body. He hit the floor with a dull thud.

Rose considered the soldier's pistol, but left it. Tony-san would not want her to use such an inelegant 'device'. But then she saw his grenades. Did Tony-san ever say anything about them?

"Tony-san..."

_I will do as you wish, my love. I just hope...that I will find you again along the way._

The tears in her eyes built up again and she stepped out into the corridor. Empty. But definitely inside the castle – the grey stone walls told her that (in much the same way, the false plaster walls of her room had been enough to let her realise that this was a converted section of the castle now being used as some form of hospital). She began to run down the corridor, her feet padding along the threadbare carpets. She didn't even notice the cold, icy touch of the air in the corridor, nor the bitter draught that bit her even through her pyjamas – which were still damp from the rain. Another pair of soldiers at the end of the corridor started and stood like statues, perplexed as to why there was a young girl running towards them angrily whilst wearing night-clothes. Their hesitation was their downfall as Rose smashed them both to the floor. Two fully grown, well built, trained professional soldiers knocked cold in a single move by a nine year old girl. Rose didn't even break her stride. There was an open doorway at the end of the corridor, and outside was grey skies and falling water. She burst out into the light and felt the rain begin to nip at her body again. She didn't care. Tony-san had told her to do something. She would do it. It didn't matter if ADAM stood in her way, or if God and Jesus and an army of angels stood in her way, she would do it. For HER angel.

_You will be there for me. I know you will. You are always there for me. Always. You and me forever._

_

* * *

_

Richard Sutherland woke with a sudden jerk and leapt out of his seat. He'd fallen asleep at his desk. What had woken him?

_BRRRIIINNNGGG!_

"Bloody thing."

He crunched back down into his chair and picked up the telephone.

"Hello?"

His wife. Oh shit.

_The fire breathing dragon..._

"Yes dear. Like I said, we've got a bit of a situation here. One of the children has been, ah, taken ill and as chief I can't leave the premises until the situation is resolved. I told you yesterday."

_Here comes the fire._

"No dear. I can't come back just yet – we're having a really bad day here..."

_Please...just be quiet for a moment._

"Look, I'll be home in time for dinner. Trust me on this. We've just got some things still to sort out. No, no I'm not hiding something..."

"_Something I'm not telling her?" Well, let's just see – if I were to say to her;_

"_No, I'm not the chief of a government organisation that looks after terminally ill or badly disabled children who can't be looked after elsewhere. I actually brainwash the terminally ill children and make them work as assassins who kill people the government doesn't like. One of the children has been raped and murdered horribly in Edinburgh and we haven't had a report back from the recovery teams – except for from the Edinburgh Keeper, who's frantic, garbled communication our experts are still trying to decode." _

_Would you believe me if I said that? Eh? _

A man in a pale blue shirt, unbuttoned and with a loose hanging tie (another who had stayed overnight – this had been a hard one on all of them) knocked on the door to Sutherlands office.

"I have to go. I'll ring at lunch. Goodbye. Yes, yes, goodbye."

He slammed the phone down onto its rest and motioned for the worker to come in. This guy had been responsible for talking to anyone in Edinburgh who might know the situation. Specifically the police – the few messages they had received from the Keeper (what they could understand that was) seemed to indicate that something had gone massively wrong. Hence the chaos. The fact that he had been trying since the early hours didn't look good. Either the law was extremely busy (which was possible if the operation had been very loud or particularly brutal), or, well, what were the alternatives? They just couldn't be bothered answering? Something had gone terribly wrong? But what? What could silence an entire police force? And how would it connect to the BWC? Maybe they just picked a bad time. But some shit had gone down which no one had expected. So much confusion and disorder. Sutherland's head was rocking. None of his thoughts made sense anymore. He needed answers.

"Sir? I got through to someone in the military from the castle."

"Oh good, what did you find? And why haven't the police been answering?"

The agent came into the office and shut the door behind him. He had hastily scribbled notes on a crumpled piece of paper.

"It's bad. Very bad."

"How? It was a routine trip. Does this explain why Paul hasn't contacted us?"

"Yes sir. From what I can gather – we have a rogue Cyborg. The police survivors are saying it was a 'he'."

"Good God. ADAM. Go...go on."

"He was last seen heading into a chemical works which had recently been overtaken by a Chinese man and a girl. Reports indicate that partially dissolved, broken Cyborg remains have been pulled out of one of the vats there."

"Amy's dead then...Christ." _Another one! Jennifer, Sarah and Amy... _"What about Paul?"

"He hasn't reported back. If he died in the vat too – there won't be anything left."

"Thank you..." Sutherland nodded grimly "Take a break, get some rest. I've got an announcement to make."

_Where are Tony, Eve and Rose?_

_

* * *

_

Rose arrived back at the safe-house, wet and with fresh tears on her face. She saw the door handle first. It was loose. Broken. Snapped off. The door was broken too – hanging loose on its hinges. She heard a banging noise inside the house. A shattering and crashing – the yelp of an injured man. Treading carefully, she steeped silently into the house. Another crash and a scream of pain. Down the hall, a doorway lay on the floor. A light was on. Across the floor, sideways, was cast a shadow play. Two figures. One crouching, pleading. The other, short, yet terrible in its power, seeming to grab the other figure by the throat and cast it across the room. Another crash and James Monroe slammed into view, skidding across the wooden floorboards. His blue dressing gown had a red streak down the front where his nose had been smashed. He screamed.

"I tell you, I don't know! I woke up ready to leave and they were already gone!"

"Then let me tell you," A voice, cold and calculating, but definitely that of ADAM; "that they have just returned. I can tell these things, you see. But...you say Kite left Rose a note? He has abandoned her?"

"I...found a letter."

"Intriguing. The web of betrayal and abandonment catches all. Well, I better welcome my guest. Because if what you say is true, then Rose has returned to this house alone. You are... now most unwelcome."

A black shape enveloped the screaming man, and there was a ripping, stabbing sound as he was torn apart by a kitchen knife in a frenzied attack of horrifying strength. The black shape turned to look at Rose – who was stood, still, petrified in the hallway. And Rose saw that, though it may have originally been black, it was now a new colour. A deep, dark red. The red silhouette stood poised in the doorway, facing her. About its body were the outlines of guns. In its hand was a bloodied carving knife from the kitchen. Behind it were remains. They no longer looked like human remains. They were something out of an abattoir – torn apart on all sides and with bones protruding out of the dark flesh. Like a punctured water-bag, James Monroe's blood gushed outwards over the floor in a wave. The silhouette, she noticed, had a piercing, stabbing red glow in place of its right eye. A light so bright she feared it would bore a hole in her. She stood stock still – unable to move. ADAM spoke to her, a surprising gentleness in his voice.

"Rose, you are not my enemy. I won't hurt you unless I have to."

Rose said nothing in reply.

"Where is Tony Kite? Tell me."

"I don't know."

"But you loved each other. We all saw it. They weren't happy about it, either. They only put up with it because you were so good. But I'm better Rose. And they aren't going to be around to judge us much longer. He has abandoned you, Rose. Forgotten you."

"He said you would go after him..."

"I will. Last. He's far too good to track across Britain. I'll head to the British Welfare Corporation first. I'd like you to join me. Those people, they betrayed us both. And Tony Kite betrayed your love. Does it not make you mad? Come with me. Kill them."

"No, it doesn't make me mad. I could never be mad at Tony-san. He still loves me. I'll see him again. He's my angel. Always there. And you...you are going to die."

"I'm not going to die, Rose. You shouldn't show him that respect, that devotion – he wants you to fight me instead of him. He ran away to escape me. He is not an angel, he is a coward."

"No."

Rose smiled and shook her head.

_He's anything but._

"So you will not join me?"

"No."

"Then will you stand aside?"

"No."

"I'm sorry. I killed Amy, you know. At the end, she wanted it. She couldn't bear what the Corporation had done to her. Stand aside now, Rose. Or you will die as well."

"No."

"I'm truly, truly, sorry."

"So am I."

And she threw the grenades she had hidden behind her back; ADAM looked at them, bemused and was blown backwards in a spray of blood. He smashed into the carcass behind him and lay still. Rose didn't bother to check him – she hurriedly ran into her room and changed. She pulled on her jeans and black woollen and prepared to leave the house – taking Tony's note and the revolver with her. Old clothes, new weapons, new purpose. She didn't even look back at ADAM's body. There was no point. He hadn't had time to recover, and even if she used the opportunity to attack him she couldn't kill him. Not with her weapons. Not alone. She needed Tony-san for that. And he had given her a job to do. She hurried out of the house and took with her the wallet lying on the small table in the hall. Enough money for a train, easily. South. And hope no one asks questions about why a nine-year old girl was travelling alone.

She was gone for only a minute or two when ADAM awoke – the entire of his front shirt obliterated and saturated with gore. He rose to his feet and couldn't help break into a laugh. He would have to be more careful in the future. He hadn't been prepared – and had suffered for it. She would not catch him off guard again. ADAM rooted around in a wardrobe for some clothes. His current set was ruined and he'd need to cover his head if he was going to pass amongst the public. He took a pair of black jeans, cut off the bottom to shorten them, and a black hooded top, which wasn't too big. Big enough though, to hide his glowing right eye if he so wished.

* * *

Sutherland called an agent into his office. He stood looking out of his window, his hands fidgeting in front of him through nervousness - thankfully out of sight. He watched the overcast sky, spread like a thin grey sheet across the heavens and blocking out the sun, changing its mood and starting to rain. He addressed the agent, his voice unreadable.

"We can't handle this ourselves. Call for backup."

"From who sir? There is no one, the BWC is supposed to be unofficial."

"Call other Cyborg organisations."

"Who sir?"

"ANYONE!" The shout drew looks from elsewhere in the building down the corridor towards the office. "The Italians owe us a favour, but try and get another agency if you can as well. Don't care who. The goddamn French for all I care."

"Yes sir. I'll contact the Italian Social Welfare Agency and the French Child Security Organisation."

"You do that."

The Italians and the French at once. Brilliant. All he needed now was a bullet in the head. Or a dragon.

His phone began to ring. It was lunchtime. The dragon called.

* * *

Elsewhere, sitting alone on some godforsaken park bench, Tony Kite was fighting a war. A war in his mind. A war against himself. A war he needed to win to be able to help fight ADAM and to help Rose.

A war he was losing.


	11. Enter the Hunters

Chapter 11

Tony Kite stumbled through the barren, empty wasteland. Around him a fierce, dry wind whipped up the grey dust and blew it in great rivers across the land. The ground was covered in this dust, and littered here and there were broken down ruins, skeletons and occasionally something familiar to him – but it would be as old and damaged as the rest. The wasteland stretched on, flat and barren except for the ruins and bones, as far as he could see. The sky was a fierce, fiery red and streaks of lightning roared downwards from it to smite the land. Tony couldn't remember quite why he was here or even where here was. He couldn't remember anything that had happened before he arrived here. A tiny part of his mind told him that it was for the best.

Across the vastness a cold, malicious voice called out to him. It was a voice which seemed to be excited, triumphant. It said;

"Come to me."

He could see no one who could have said this. It had been nought but a whisper, but he was alone in this field of dead memories. He stumbled over a small stone, a grave marker. He brushed away the dust coating it and saw what had been carved there:

"_In loving Memory – dearest Samantha."_

The name had a vague meaning for him, nothing more. Then he heard the voice again.

"Come to me."

He set off walking again, hoping to find the home of the voice.

Tony Kite stumbled across the barren, empty wasteland. Around him a fierce, dry wind whipped up the grey dust and blew it in great rivers across the land.

* * *

Richard Sutherland looked at the small group gathered before him. Two French Fratello and an Overseer (The French were one of the few who broke from the Italian mode of operations. They operated in pairs, each Fratello was referred to as a wing and would be under the control of an Overseer whose job it was to monitor Cyborg/Fratello relations and ensure that the relationships forged were strictly of a handler/weapon nature. No emotional attachment was allowed.). Also there was an Italian agent. He was a tall man, thin and he spoke with a German accent. By his side was a tall, blonde girl in a dark leather coat and smart school uniform. She carried a long, tubular case over her shoulder and carried an air of maturity with her. She was a stark contrast to the French Cyborgs who wore identical blue uniforms and had their hair cut short. Their faces were expressionless – the Italian girl just seemed bored.

Sutherland had complete faith in the teams, if he was a little disappointed that their respective agencies couldn't send more. He had attempted to contact the US – but situations there seemed to be rapidly going from bad to worse. From what he had gathered, sporadic fighting had broken out in military bases across the country. no word yet as to why, or how. They had bigger problems to worry about than a little thing like a rogue BWC Cyborg. He dismissed the gathered hunters from his office and thought on the situation. ADAM had succeeded in eliminating a Cyborg. On the same day as a suicide and the confirmation of a K.I.A. How would he explain this to his superiors in the Home Office? But if these hunters from foreign agencies could find him, then together they might stand a chance of bringing ADAM down - with ADAM out of the picture he would be able to think. Of course, it seemed a forgone conclusion that he would lose his job over this.

When they had left he sat back in his office chair and wept. For the first time in several years, since he became hardened to the realities of life, he wept.

* * *

Tony Kite kept struggling onwards through the wasteland. A time passed; maybe an hour, maybe a day, and he saw a great light. As he progressed towards it he saw that it was shining in all colours and he was filled with wonder. Closer still and he saw that it was high up, off the ground and that it was set in stone. Suddenly the winds stopped blowing and the dust clouds settled and he saw that he was before a great and ominous cathedral. Its spire was vast and tall and Tony could just make out the source of the coloured light. There was a stained glass window, some thirty feet across, and it showed an image of terrifying clarity. There was a white haired man and a dark haired young girl. They wore shining halos and did battle with a red eyed daemon. Behind them was a strange sight. Legions of figures fighting a war against small figures – children possibly. These images had no meaning for Tony Kite, however. He was merely lost at their power over him.

The great doors of the cathedral creaked open and a pale light from candles illuminated the vast, arched interior.

"Come to me."

He stepped into the cathedral. And immediately woke up.

He was on a train. How he got there he did not know, but he had gotten from a small park bench to a train. Where was he going? Didn't know that, either. His mind hurt, throbbed. Not a headache, a headache is a feeling where the head is being pounded at – he felt as though he was being shrunk. He looked around him as his memories came flooding back to him. He was sitting opposite an elderly gentleman in a suit. He had a white moustache and his hair was neatly combed. He sat with his legs crossed and read a newspaper. He also tried to avoid eye contact with Tony.

Looking into his window reflection, Tony saw why. He was scary. He looked ill, vampiric – god, he looked like a junkie. Gaunt, drawn out. Weak? Probably. He looked down at his hands. They were shaking. Then he was starting to shiver all over. The man opposite him jumped from his seat as Tony Kite convulsed and slammed down onto the floor of the train carriage, his body wracked with pain and writhing in its agonies. A fell, cold voice roared in his head as he returned to the Cathedral inside his mind. A voice that screamed, each word its own sentence, a terrible cry;

"_You're time is finished, Tony Kite! It's over, I tried to help, but you fought against me - well no more! This body is now mine and you are soon dead, for I am Sam and now I am free!"_

_

* * *

_

Rose stood alone outside a small house in Blackpool. She knocked once on the door and it swung open to her destiny. The man stood there looked at her with wonder and beckoned her inside. The door shut with a clang as the mechanical safety devices inside it activated.

* * *

The hunters had finished their preparations and, weapons in their arms, began heading towards the helicopter that had been prepared for them. It had a tracker in it. ADAM and Rose would both show up on the system as long as they lived. The French Overseer, a man named Jean Claude, flicked it on and was bathed in it's green light. He swore at what he saw. ADAM was right on top of them...

* * *

_Notes: Well I'm getting back into the swing of writing again. I'm a bit out of practise and I think it shows. But I just needed to get something done to get the story flowing again in my head. It should be starting to pick up again next time._  



	12. Reflections and the Fall of the BWC

Chapter 12

Silence had infiltrated the compound. The hunters froze, waiting for the inevitable attack. Night had fallen quickly on this day and shadows were cast about through the darkness playing tricks on their minds as they awaited the coming death. Around the helipad the buildings of the BWC were well lit, as was the helipad itself. But surrounding the compound was pitch darkness, and it was enveloping them. Any shadow could have hidden itself away in that great shroud. And according to the scanning systems: one was. Jean Claude leaned into the ear of the Italian agent and said;

"We should go. Even if the target is here, we cannot take him alive without the Cyborg Rose."

The Italian, a man who went by the name Hillshire, turned and looked into the eyes of the French Overseer.

"Who said anything about taking him alive? We stop him. That's our mission." He said, his voice low, dangerous – he was prepared for a battle with ADAM, and he was going to follow his orders come hell or high water.

"I have my orders from my superiors. ADAM is to be taken alive and intact at all costs. We retreat, find Agent Kite and Rose and return. We can find him using this." Claude flicked the scanner screen.

"Your orders mean nothing to me. If we leave, then we're abandoning these people to certain death, if anything we've been told is true. Only by attacking him as a united front can we stand any chance of bringing him down." Hillshire nodded towards his Cyborg, Triela, and they stepped out of the chopper onto the helipad.

"The deaths of a few dozen British agents are nothing. 'At all costs' are my orders. We need to retrieve the second generation Cyborg tech. The First Response Assault Unit is a masterpiece of design, just look at how it's annihilating an entire organization of supposedly the best this country has to offer – I need to take it intact!"

"Then you'll have to manage that without us then. We're not going to abandon these people."

"We don't need you. We need the Cyborg Rose, her skills are infamous. With her aiding us, we'll complete our mission. My personal orders supersede those of the orders from that fool Sutherland!"

"We have nothing else to talk about."

Hillshire turned and nodded to Triela, who unpacked her Mossberg Shotgun. The choppers' blades began to pick up speed and made a rough droning noise. It began to elevate, and suddenly, to Hillshire, it all became clear. They hadn't been attacked because ADAM was going to split them up. He was watching THEM. The chopper reached a good height and set off northwards towards the flashing beacon indicating Rose on the scanner. Hillshire looked about himself and looked straight into the eyes of Triela, who stood expectantly, awaiting the battle. She had figured it out too, probably before he did. Her smarts always surprised him, she didn't act it very often – but she had a keen intelligence alongside her maturity.

Triela scanned the shadows and, with her handler, moved towards the main building on the BWC compound. She shouldered her shotgun as Hillshire drew his pistol. They were at the foot of the dormitory, and across a large, dark expanse was the main HQ. A fountain could be seen, dimly lit, in the distance – it was surrounded by police tape that shone yellow in the light there. She looked at Hillshire and said;

"Sir? Shall we cross?"

"Alright. Keep your eyes peeled. And hurry. We don't know what the targets' plan is."

They began to cross the expanse, the tarmac beneath their feet sounding loud and brash like an angry child bullying another. It threatened to give away their position, and Triela knew it. She heard a crunching noise. Very faint. Too faint, in fact, for a normal human to hear. But it was there all the same, and to her, it was loud enough to notice. And it pinpointed Adams' location perfectly.

"Sir?"

"Yes? What is it?"

"He's behind us."

"How close?"

"Close enough." said ADAM as he swung in the air, delivering an almighty kick to Triela, and sending her sprawling. He whipped his Uzi across Hillshire's head and left them both, out cold, on the concrete as he calmly made his way towards the BWC main building.

* * *

Rose looked about her. The corridor had wood panelling running down it and was dimly lit. The man, wearing nothing more business-like than jeans and a faded blue t-shirt, was still looking at her. 

"What?" She asked.

"Oh, I just. I didn't expect you so soon. That's all. But I know why you're here." The man's face was young, but there was a small scar running along his left cheek.

"Tony-san told me to." Her voice was quiet, sad, and it shivered slightly in the cold.

"That's it? He didn't go into detail? Where is he, anyway?"

Rose began to sob.

"He left..."

She tried to dab her eyes with her tattered, dirty clothes.

"Alright, come on in here."

The man motioned towards a doorway, which he opened for her. She stepped into the lounge and there were no lights on here, either - just the warm glow of the fireplace in the dead of the British winter. She sat herself down on a sofa and looked nervously around her. Outside, it once more began to rain. The droplets ran in rivulets down the window, they looked eerie in the dark - ghostlike shadows haunting the glass.

"Who...who are you?" She said at last.

"My name is Kyle. I'm the Keeper here."

"How come you didn't go to the Corporation when you found out?"

"A personal favour for Agent Kite. You never told me where he was."

"He went to lure ADAM away. He left me a note saying there was something here for me."

She looked down at her knees and suddenly felt, and looked, very vulnerable.

"There is. Several somethings, in fact. Come on, I'll show you."

Kyle stood up and began to head up the staircase in the hallway. Rose followed him.

"Why do you owe Tony-san a favour? And why is it worth staying alone and disobeying orders?"

"It's a long story. But the Corporation has had it's disasters before, you know. Tony Kite saved my life. I owe him."

"He never talks about before me."

"Never?" He stopped on the landing and looked at her."

"No. Sometimes someone will bring it up, or he'll mention it. Then he'll stop speaking."

"I understand. He was very close to his first Cyborg, Samantha."

"All I know about her is that she died."

"Yes she did, it was tragic." he opened up a door at the top of the stairway, "This whole building used to be just a couple of apartments, you know. The top one was BWC property which Agent Kite and Samantha were defending. Samantha died in this room."

The room was dark and brick lined and Kyle flicked on a single, low wattage light bulb that hung from the centre of the room, illuminating the place. The entire room was empty and void of decoration, unlike the warmth and traditional wood panels in the rest of the house. In the opposite wall was a single wooden door, padlocked shut.

"She died here? Saving you?"

"Yes...just the latest in a long line of deaths in the BWC, I'm afraid. In here."

He undid the padlocked door and opened it. A small cupboard was revealed, a small chest – barely waist high to Rose, lay on the floor there. Kyle dragged it out.

"What's in there?"

"Weapons, clothes and ammunition. Agent Kite had most of these weapons specially crafted for Samantha, but since her death and his return he asked me to keep watch over them – and that one day you would come to collect them. I expected longer. It's barely been two years since her death."

"Are these now mine?" Rose asked, as she lifted the lid of the chest.

"Everything in that chest is yours. Including," He reached into the cupboard and removed a small white stick. As it came into the light, Rose noticed it was curved slightly, and there was a small ring of metal separating the smooth wooden section from a small, cloth covered handle. ", this."

Rose took the katana with adoring eyes.

* * *

Tony Kite was once more in the cathedral inside his mind. He felt cold and tired, as though his spirit was being destroyed somehow. The roof arched high above his head, and the vast interior stretched out around him, engulfing him in its size. He heard footsteps echoing behind him and turned to see the red visage he had come to recognize as Sam walking calmly towards him, wielding a knife. Its hilt was of a dragon and there were rubies studded into it – the same knife that had killed Rose in his dream. Except it hadn't been a dream, had it? A vision? That made more sense. 

"An illusion, Tony Kite. Let's leave it at that, shall we?"

_How did he know I was thinking that?_

"I know a lot of things, Tony Kite. This is inside your mind. If you think, then I shall know. This is where I have prepared for this hour."

Tony kept his eyes firmly focussed on the knife in Sam's hand. Sam walked around him full circle, never taking his own eyes off Tony. He continued,

"You do realise that your mind never used to be a wasteland? You've done that to yourself, Tony Kite."

"Where, then, is this?" Tony indicated at the vast cathedral around him.

"My doing, don't you like it?"

Tony shook his head wearily, with the merest hint of a sad smile on his face. He nodded towards the great stained glass window.

"And what's that?"

"I'm not sure, Tony Kite. It just happened. Eerily prophetic, it seems doesn't it?"

"Prophetic about what?"

"Whilst I was in your body I noticed more things. The world is growing darker, Tony Kite – of course I have no idea what is actually happening from just in here, which is why that window is a little...unusual."

"There are evils in the world that we must destroy, I agree. But...what do you mean by 'darker'?"

"War, Tony Kite. I mean war! Have you not been paying attention? I have. Catching brief reports on the radio. War has broken out, Tony Kite. In the States."

"What has that got to do with me?"

"You? Just a minor connection, that's all, Tony Kite. That's all. You know who is responsible for it, don't you? And who is there now, fighting tooth and nail, bullet and blade to stop it. But that's irrelevant. Isn't it? We should focus on the task at hand rather than worrying you senseless over something as little as wars you cannot prevent or even take part in." He raised his knife.

"What then? You kill me here?"

"Then take your body, yes."

Sam lunged.

* * *

ADAM stepped through the doors into the BWC main building. There was a silence that hung in the air like plague. Then he started shooting. Tiles shattered on the walls as the desk guard reached for a pistol he had concealed under his jacket. ADAM's Uzi blew him apart from the waist upwards in a spray of blood. Two armed men rushed down a central stairway, but were met by a wall of bullets. 

Richard Sutherland sat upright in his seat upon hearing the gunfire break out.

"Holy..."

He took his pistol in his hand and gathered a group of agents about him. They had only pistols. Against the Nightmare That Walked, they stood no chance.

They hurriedly turned over tables to form some form of barricade across the offices corridor. Aiming towards the corner where there were sounds of gunfire and death, they awaited ADAM. Sutherland wondered where the hell his hunters were. Had they been killed already? Was ADAM really that good?

Suddenly the air was silent. A tense nervousness replaced the noise. ADAM stepped into view. What followed seemed to occur in slow motion for Richard Sutherland. He and the last surviving agents opened fire, but it was sluggish and at any rate, ADAM was unaffected. The shots thudded into his black top but hurt him not. Beneath his raised hood was an evil glow from his exposed eye. All about him, Sutherland heard clicks as the chambers ran dry on the agent's guns. ADAM raised his Uzi, and set about the massacre.

Sutherland ran, headlong into his office as his agents were gunned down. He tried to load a fresh magazine into his pistol, but his fingers fumbled and he dropped it. Cursing, he carried on and drove through the door into his office as the sound of his last good man being mowed down behind him ceased. He looked about himself desperately, there was nothing. Nothing to use, save his fists – and he was old and unable to fight well, especially not against this monster. The British Welfare Corporation had withstood betrayals before, but not like this. This was the end, Sutherland was sure.

His phone rang just as ADAM stepped into the room. The boy looked at him and sprayed shots into his legs. He collapsed by his desk.

"Aren't you going to answer it?" ADAM asked, a note of humour in his voice.

Sutherland reached for the phone.

"Argh...yes?"

His wife. Again.

"No, I didn't come home. I have a really pressing...argh...engagement."

ADAM watched, bemused, as the conversation developed.

"Oh don't say that, dear."

"What?" ADAM couldn't contain himself. This was...beautiful.

"I can forget about coming home altogether."

"I think that's a given." ADAM indicated his gun.

"No dear," back to the phone, "that's an, erm, colleague. Argh." The pain in his legs was terrible, like 1000 red hot pins being forced inwards – blunt end first.

"Actually dear, you're right. I don't think I'll be home in time for dinner after all." He looked at ADAM, "Is that the entire BWC, then?"

"Kite and Rose still live. If there is another Cyborg, she's outside my range and not a threat, but I haven't seen anyone before who hasn't died. Would I be correct in assuming that the unfortunate disappearance of Sarah from my senses was the result of," he glanced outside to the darkened fountain – a dark stain visible in it, "a nasty fall from grace?"

Sutherland just nodded, downcast. Then he looked at ADAM in a fiery rage as decades of dedicated service to the government revealed their pride.

"I hope Rose tears you a new arsehole you malfunctioning piece of sh..."

His wife was shocked to hear her husband's profanity ended by a rattling sound like an old typewriter.

* * *

Rose looked into the chest eagerly. Piled to the right hand side of it were unopened clothes inside plastic wrappers. To the left was a briefcase. She heaved it out. Underneath it, she noticed a small SMG – a TMP. 

"That won't help me."

"I know. But you'll likely face human adversaries at some point – a child carrying a sword and a pair of pistols," he indicated the case, "is going to attract attention. The pistols, however, may be of some use."

Rose opened the case. Two chrome-plated Desert Eagles.

"Tony-san doesn't like semi-automatics. We never use them when we play."

_Play?_ Thought Kyle._ God, yes – she thinks her training is a form of play. That's scary. I knew Cyborgs were scary sometimes but that's just..._

"He had them crafted specifically. Moulded grips for a child's hands, see? And specially engineered rounds. Those tips are deadly. Explosive, even. Overkill for humans, but Kite always did seem to like to be prepared. Against ADAM, if you hit him where his endoskeleton is weak, you might stand a chance."

"Where's that?"

"I don't have his technical specifications. I'll try to contact HQ. And also listen to police radio – if Agent Kite gets into a gunfight it's bound to be reported, we can go to help."

Rose smiled.

"Yes please!"

"Alright. You take those clothes – they look like they ought to fit you – and go and get changed. Take a nap as well, even Cyborgs need rest. I'll bring you some tea in a bit."

"Thank you, sir."

"Forget about the 'sir' nonsense. I'm just a Keeper."

"But you're nice to me. And you're nice to Tony-san. You're going to help us and we'll all fly away to Tokyo with Sarah and Amy!"

"Yeah. Okay."

Kyle left the room, wondering whether he should tell her that it had been reported that both were dead.


	13. The Doom of Snow White

Chapter 13

Tony rolled under the blade's path, instinctively keeping low so he could live long enough to figure out what the hell was going on – and how he was going to stop it. He ran, head down, towards a great gothic pillar, and dove behind it as he saw the dagger thud into the wall – right opposite the space he had just been stood. If he had stayed put – he would be dead. The laughter echoed around him;

"Hide, hide, Tony Kite. It won't be long now."

* * *

As Kyle sat in the darkness he fiddled with his radio, his phone and even the email on his computer – but try as he might, he could get no word from HQ. He began to get worried and started pacing up and down; storming silently to himself trying to figure out what was wrong. As he paced, a door opened, allowing a tiny crack of light into the room. The crack grew and widened: the room filling with light. Rose stood in the doorway, wearing a black dress that reached down to just above her knees.

"Have you found Tony-san?"

"I'm sorry Rose. I haven't found anything. HQ isn't talking back – this is serious."

"Have you tried police radio?"

"Not yet, c'mon sit down. I'll get you a drink – I'm sorry I forgot it earlier."

"That's alright – you were looking for Tony-san." Rose sat down on the sofa and huddled her legs up to her chest as Kyle went into the kitchen to put on the kettle.

"You never think of anything else, do you?"

"Hmm?"

"Tony. You never think of anything else except him. Why is that? It seems to go beyond normal conditioning devotion."

"I love Tony-san. And he loves me. Sometimes, when we're playing at the firing range," there it was again... playing...not training, "he'd put his arms around me to steady my aim and get my stance right."

"It's just training. You're reading too much into it."

"I don't think so. Tony-san says he loves me; he holds me and cuddles me. A couple of nights ago, he kissed me."

Kyle began to get seriously uncomfortable with this line of conversation. Everyone knew that they were close...but kisses?

_That's a bit far, Kite. _

"Alright, set up the radio – we'll listen in."

He finished making the tea, and came back into the lounge. Sitting on a small, tattered chair he looked at the young girl trying to understand the equipment, her tongue protruding from between her teeth – she was not going to give up, however confusing the tools were. It was clear to him that Tony Kite, whatever his moral stance on his relationship with Rose, was the most important thing in her life. Thinking on how the BWC seemed to have stopped talking back, Kyle suddenly realised that he could very well be the most important thing in HIS life, as well. Without Kite, it was doubtful that Rose could function half as well. Kyle reached across and set up the radio for her – tuning in to the emergency services, they sat and listened for any sign of what had happened.

* * *

Triela was up and running in the direction of the sound – Hillshire had still to recover, but she had heard it. The noise of ADAM in the truck loading bays around the compound that had been there for deliveries of food, ammo, supplies, etc. She had heard shooting. Readying her shotgun, she hurtled round the corner – straight into the arms of Death.

* * *

Jean Claude, Cyborg Wing Overseer for the French Child Security Organisation allowed himself a smile as the flashing beacon of Rose grew stronger and stronger on the scanner. He allowed his Left Wing Handler take control of the chopper and he moved into the back of the machine. The two girls were sat there, silently. The cold air rushed past the opening in the chopper side, but they weren't shivering. They had two identical FAMAS rifles by their sides. Utterly expressionless, they looked up and saluted – acknowledging their Overseer. Claude turned to the Right Wing Handler and tapped him on the shoulder, making him lean forwards to hear. 

"When we locate the Rose Unit, we must ensure that Agent Kite is with her before moving to contact them. We cannot risk her mistrust of us – and that will be almost certain to happen if we approach her when Kite is not there."

"Yes sir, understood. We'll leave the chopper at the nearest military base and progress by road."

"Smart thoughts."

Claude ducked back into the cockpit to relay the instructions to the Left Wing Handler. The Right Wing Handler spoke to the Cyborgs.

"Unit Rose is not a target, and she is not to be approached until authorisation is given from the overseer. 23, do you understand me?"

"Yes sir." 23 responded with a monotone voice utterly devoid of emotion. High conditioning.

"24? You got me?"

"Sir." 24 confirmed him. Although she was the Left Wing Cyborg, he was still her superior and was to be obeyed at all times unless it directly contradicted her own handler's instructions.

The blip on the monitor grew stronger.

* * *

Tony dived as Sam lunged for him again. He hit the floor hard and felt the dust spit up into his mouth. A red leather shoe kicked him hard across the face, spinning him onto his back, and then thudded down onto his chest. He cried out in pain and lashed out at the red trousers standing by him. They deftly dodged his blow and stepped down once more onto his chest. Sam looked over him, smiling softly. The Dagger was in his hands, and it gleamed. His red coat slashed the air as he span on the spot and delivered a crushing kick to the side of Tony's ribs as he struggled to his feet. He was sent sprawling again. 

"Come on, Tony Kite. Surely you realise you cannot win? I'm better than you in this place – surrender, just give me your body and you can still be alive!"

He rasped the last word at Tony, as he rose to his feet.

"Surrender? To someone who doesn't exist? I can't."

"But you are powerless!"

"Not me! Never."

"You have no weapons!"

"Well...there is this..."

Tony reached into his pocket and pulled out a single revolver shell.

"A single bullet? It's harmless."

"Maybe. Or maybe not. Maybe this is what's going to stop this once and for all. Maybe this one bullet is the key to my survival!"

"How?" Sam started to back off, slowly. He didn't know what was going through Tony's mind right now – for some reason he couldn't hear him...

"Well, see for yourself."

Tony placed the bullet on the floor between his legs. The, looking at Sam, he showed him his suit pocket.

"What do you see?"

"It's empty..." Sam's sharp mind had begun to realise what Tony's had. After all – they were two sides of the same being – they just thought in different ways. He began to look around himself, and, realising that there was nowhere to run, he gripped his blade tightly.

* * *

Rose heard something. Just a couple of crumpled words amidst the static, but they were definitely there. 

..._white hair_...

As leads went, it wasn't much to go on – but Rose knew only one person with white hair. Tony. She jumped to her feet.

"Kyle! Turn it back!"

"What? You heard something?"

"Turn it back!"

He moved the dial slowly to the left on the radio equipment, browsing rubbish and static. Then it came through again – clear as day.

..._Kite_...

"Shit we got something!"

A tiny movement of the dial to right and the following conversation was broadcast across the room:

"_Could you repeat that?"_

"_I said we've picked up a white haired man. I'd say in his twenties. ID say's Tony Kite. Apparently he works for the British Welfare Corporation. He slipped into a coma on a train, so they stopped at the next station to call us. We're transporting him to the hospital now."_

"_Copy that. Blackpool Hospital will be preparing for him. What's your ETA?"_

"_10 minutes. One more thing – he's armed."_

"_What?"_

"_He's carrying one big ass revolver."_

"_But...the Welfare Corporation is a civilian agency, isn't it?"_

"_Yeah. Inform the police."_

"_Will do."_

Kyle sat in silence, thinking. Worrying. A coma? Why? How?

"We gotta go get Tony-san!" Rose was frantic, seeming to jump from one side of him to another.

"Alright, we will. Just be careful. It could be dangerous. Don't do anything unless I tell you first. Understand? This is for Tony."

"Okay. Can I get my sword? And my new guns?"

"Go get 'em."

* * *

Triela didn't think. Just fired. ADAM somersaulted backwards, but landed on his feet. He raised his Uzi and fired a short burst until it clicked empty. He reached around his jeans and what remained of his human face became clouded as he realised he was all spent. Triela fired again and he was sent backwards, into a wall. Another shot tore off the rest of the flesh across his face. He leaped up towards the large loading bay door and lifted it, raising it high before ducking inside. He disappeared into the shadows. 

Swearing to herself, Triela followed him into the dusty gloom. The loading bay was dusty and little used, with the omnipresent darkness shrouding it in fear. There were also several dead bodies lying on the floor amidst their own blood. ADAM was no where to be seen. Triela racked the slide on her shotgun and shouldered it, ready to fire. Then she saw a pair of red, glowing daemonic eyes blazing in the darkness. She fired until her gun clicked empty. The eyes just sat there. Then, slowly, a gentle laughter filled the dusty air. ADAM ran towards her, his twin Colts blazing.

She raised her arm and dropped her shotgun to shield herself from the bullets. But too many hit her abdomen and she collapsed onto the floor with a leak of blood. Not enough to be serious. She rose to her feet and took out her pistol – managing to fire a single shot before ADAM snapped her arm. Triela realised in that moment:

_This is it..._

She lashed out with her remaining arm and hit nothing but air. ADAM delivered a vicious kick to her ribs and she toppled like a jenga tower onto the floor below the massive steel loading door.

"You've been an interesting opponent. One of the first of our kind?"

"I..."

"Don't talk. It'll just hurt more. Now this..." he tapped the loading bay door above her chest "... is really going to hurt you. I'm so very sorry. But just think – you're obsolete, you would have died soon anyway at your age. I'm doing you a favour."

He slammed the door down onto her chest, crushing the air from her lungs. He stepped up and placed a foot onto the iron handle that stuck out on the door. He brought his whole weight on it, and the door began to cut into Triela's chest. First there was little effect. Then it bit deeper. And her blood began to leak and dribble out as she desperately fought to use lungs that could not expand. Deeper, and her ribs shattered. Deeper, and her lungs themselves were punctured. Her blood began to spurt out into the air now, falling back down to coat the door and her face with its iron taste. She tried to scream, but couldn't. Deeper, and her body had been severed clean in two. Her mind was still functioning for the seconds that it took for ADAM to raise the door again. The last sight she ever saw was a pair of fierce red eyes, glowing with infinite hatred.

Hillshire staggered around the corner to the loading bay. He saw Triela. He ran to the broken ruins. He dropped to his knees and began to weep. He heard the click of a Colt being loaded. He was killed by a single bullet to the head. ADAM headed towards the armoury. He needed more ammo now...


End file.
